


Crossroads

by Samara Lilly (Amber_Rose)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Discussion of Abortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Graphic Violence, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-06-15 05:06:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 71,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15405615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Rose/pseuds/Samara%20Lilly
Summary: Post-Reichenbach: After his jump from the roof of St.-Bart’s hospital Sherlock went undercover to destroy Moriarty’s network and save his friends. But he has a secret that’s going to be his undoing, when he gets captured in Serbia: Sherlock is an Omega and is soon to become fair game for Moriarty’s men.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never read a Sherlock fanfic combining his time in Serbia and omegaverse. So I decided to write one myself. 
> 
> It's the first time I publish a story here, and the first time it's a story I translated to English. I’m not a native speaker and I don’t have a beta reader. So I’m sorry for every mistake I made. Corrections are welcome!
> 
> This story contains brutality, torture and rape, but I will not describe it explicitly. Please read the warnings!

Sherlock's wrists were restraint in iron cuffs, the edges cutting into his sensitive flesh. The chains attached to the cuffs were pulled tight to stretch his arms and keep him upright. His shirt had been ripped from his body before the beatings had begun. Sherlock had tried to endure them in silence. But as the first blood had begun to trickle down the skin of his back, it had become harder and harder to remain silent. He had felt the rough fabric of his military trousers soaking up the blood. In the meantime his punisher had paused to smoke a cigarette.

„Want one? I’m in a generous mood today,“ the man said in Serbian while lighting his cigarette, a grin on his face. He inhaled deeply and stepped closer to Sherlock. He blew the smoke into Sherlock’s face.  
„Oh silly me - you’re barely able to smoke right now, are you?“ he grinned. He stood very near now, lifting Sherlocks chin with the help of his left index finger.  
„This was just the beginning. We’ll have a lot of fun together. Won’t we?“ The man - Goran - turned around to face another man sitting on a chair in a corner of the cell.  
„Don’t expect him to talk already. You’ve heard the boss,“ the second man said.  
„I don’t expect him to. On the contrary. It would be no fun if he started talking already.“ Sherlock tried to show no emotions. Weakness would be fatal.

„I know you can understand us, Holmes,“ the man in the corner said. His name was Ninko. He looked harmless and young. He was barely 25. But Sherlock had heard a lot about him. He wasn’t harmless. And he was the head of Moriarty’s Serbian network. It was him Sherlock had been after. But he had made a mistake that made him a prisoner. And he had no idea if Mycroft knew where they had brought him.   
Ninko smiled. „You’ll learn to cooperate.“  
Sherlock didn’t respond.

„Still stubborn, eh? They all are in the beginning. But just let Goran finish his work with you. Then you’ll be begging for mercy like all the others. And tell us what we want to hear.“  
Goran laughed. He took another drag from his cigarette. Then he turned the butt and moved his hand towards Sherlock’s bare upper arm. Sherlock kept looking at Goran. He wasn’t going to show any weakness. When Goran stubbed out the cigarette on the delicate skin of Sherlock’s arm, Sherlock flinched. He took a shuddering breath. Goran chuckled while examining the small round wound.  
„You can make nice patterns this way, you know,“ he smiled, but suddenly his smile faltered.

„Just a second. What do we have here?“ Goran grabbed Sherlock’s arm. He twisted it with enough force until Sherlock thought Goran was going to dislocate his shoulder. Sherlock clenched his teeth. Not just because it hurt, but because of the terror that hit him the same moment. For a second he hoped that Goran meant something different. But this little hope crumbled to dust when Goran started laughing.  
„I’ve seen scars like these. During my time in London. A chick I knew there had the same scars. An Omega whore.“ Goran touched the small silver scars on the inside of Sherlock’s left arm with his filthy fingers.  
„Hormonal implants. At least four scars. Every implant works for four years. Unbelievable.“ Goran grabbed Sherlocks curls, yanking his head around until he could lock eyes with him.  
„I can’t believe it: Sherlock Holmes is an Omega! For how long have you been suppressing your real nature, bitch?“ he hissed. His breath smelled like cigarettes and alcohol. Sherlock said nothing.  
„Nearly 20 years, eh? No wonder you have nothing in common with other Omegas. Ever had a proper heat?“

Sherlock didn't respond. Goran grinned. Then he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a knife. It took him only a few moments to cut Sherlock’s trousers and pants from his body while talking. „I’m a Beta myself, but I’ve had my share of Omega cunts. No blokes. I’m not into blokes. But the cunts… Man, when they get horny, the fucking is going to be a real challenge. You’re getting wet like the females, bitch?“ Goran stepped back to look at Sherlock who was by now naked except for his black socks.

„No need to answer. I suppose you never had a proper heat or never had the right bloke to fuck you. But I can provide that.“ Goran took a closer look at Sherlock’s genitals.  
„At least you've got a proper cock. I’ve heard most Omega males only have small ones. I’ll give you a last chance now, bitch. Talk! Or I’m going to arrange a little meeting with some of my boys. Some Alphas among them. They would be delighted to meet you. Even more once you’re starting to get wet.“ Goran took hold of Sherlock’s upper arm and pierced the delicate pale skin with the tip of the blade. The implant was just beyond the skin for easy removal using local anaesthetics. Of course no anaesthesia today for Sherlock. He grit his teeth before saying: „It’s not sure my body will regain his natural function during the next days. Maybe it’s never going to happen.“

„Well, bitch…“ Goran chuckled while twisting the knife in the little wound. „If I was you, I would pray it does quickly. Otherwise it will be very uncomfortable for you.“ Goran had loosened the implant with the tip of the knife. Now he was able to pull it out with his dirty fingernails. He extricated the small rod and studied it.  
„Pity…“ He put the implant into his trouser pocket. „Wouldn’t want you to just put it back in. So - I’ll have a little rendezvous arranged. And you can start looking forward to it.“  
„How long exactly have you been a bed wetter? Until the age of 15, right?“ Sherlock asked with a low voice. He knew that it was most likely a terrible idea to voice his deduction. But before he could help it, the words were already out. „Oh no, wait… You were 16 already, hm? Was it just one uncle? Or both?“  
Pure hate began to gleam in Goran’s eyes, his face contorted into a grimace. „You fucking arsehole! You have no clue, you filthy bitch! We’ll show you what it means to mess with us!“  
Ninko, who was still sitting in the corner of the cell, knew what a great mistake Sherlock had just made. Goran had barely survived a horrible childhood, but he never talked about it. Ninko knew a little bit about it through mutual relatives. 

Sherlock tried to prepare for the pain. But the first blow was a punch to his kidney that left him breathless and lessened his mental strength. Ninko got up and left the cell. It was not that he couldn’t bare what was about to happen. But it would bore him, and he had better things to do than watching Goran teach Sherlock Holmes his first lesson. 

When Goran left the cell 20 minutes later he was breathing hard, his knuckles bleeding. Sherlock was left in his restraints - only half concious. About a quarter hour later a young man with the keyes for the chains entered the cell. He unlocked the cuffs, and Sherlock fell to the ground. He couldn’t suppress a cry of pain when he hit the floor without being able to catch himself.  
„Can count yourself lucky Goran hasn’t just snapped your neck. You must be of some use, after all. Besides… not so sure if you are lucky he hasn’t killed you… We’ll have to see later.“ The man stepped beside Sherlock.  
„Up! You can rest later!“, he yelled. Sherlock moaned. He pushed himself up on shaking arms. Blood was running down his face and was dripping onto the floor. He had to breathe through his open mouth because his nose was clogged.

„Move!“, the man ordered. He grabbed a fistful of Sherlock’s curls. He yanked him up, and Sherlock came to his feet, stumbling and panting. The man shoved him out of the cell and down the corridor. Sherlock tried to memorize details of his surroundings, but it was hard to concentrate. His head was throbbing, every move hurt.  
„In there,“ the man ordered, when they approached an open door. Sherlock stumbled into the cell. He turned to face the man.  
„Welcome home, bitch!“ A last disdainful grin before the door fell closed. A key was turned in the lock. 

Sherlock made a few steps until he could find some leverage on one of the rough walls. He tried to take a deep breath, but his ribs hurt from the beatings. Goran clearly knew what he was doing. Slowly Sherlock sank to his knees until he was sitting. He leaned his back against the wall. His eyelids were already so swollen, that he could barely see. But nevertheless he took a look around his cell. Spartan: There was a naked lightbulb on the ceiling, a dirty grey blanket in one of the corners and next to it a metal bucket - obviously his toilet. No windows, just the one metal door through which he had entered the cell. Some hooks were attached to one of the walls. Sherlock could imagine multiple possibilities for torture scenarios that were waiting for him. One worse than the other. But the worst was, that they had removed his implant. He pushed aside the thought, that he would inevitably go into heat. If he lost himself in that thought, he would get a panic attack. That was something he had to avoid. He had to keep a clear head. If he wanted to survive, then he could not only count on Mycroft to get him out of here in just a few days. 

Sherlock had planned this mission together with his older brother. Mycroft had promised to keep an eye on him - as far as he could. And there were no guarantees, Sherlock had known that. But there had been no alternatives. After Moriarty’s suicide Sherlock had jumped from the roof of St.-Bart’s, following the plan he had worked out with Mycroft. And all had gone well according to the plan. As far as you could call it all „well“. Because John had witnessed everything. He even took Sherlock’s wrist to check his pulse. Which wasn’t there. Sherlock’s plan had been nearly foolproof. 

Just a few days later, Sherlock had left England to destroy Moriarty’s criminal network. That John was grieving his death was the worst, and Sherlock felt guilty. John was his best friend. He did all this to guarantee John’s safety. Sherlock had thought, everything had been perfectly planned. Had thought, that he was smarter than Moriarty’s men. He knew now, that he had been wrong. Jim Moriarty’s right-hand man was a man with great skills and highly intelligent. He had replaced Moriarty by now. Sherlock had wanted to get to this man in the end. To do this, he had to dismantle the part of Moriarty’s network in eastern Europe. He had achieved that. But his cover had been blown, and now here he was - imprisoned in an old building in the middle of a big woodland somewhere in Serbia. 

It was the first time now that Sherlock could really think about his situation, and he realized that he was in really big trouble. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. He had to stay calm and focused. No distraction, pure logic. But deep inside his body there was this lingering fear what would happen when his body would begin to change. Sherlock tried to ignore this thought. It wasn’t easy. Because at this very moment his body showed him very clearly, how big it’s influence on his mind was. Because it hurt. Badly. Every breath hurt, and Sherlock didn’t dare to touch his face. His blood was drying on his skin. And he actually began to feel cold. 

When he was no longer able to ignore the cold, he opened his eyes and blinked in the merciless bright light of the naked lightbulb. He wasn’t able to properly concentrate anyway, his thoughts whirling through his had uncontrollably. When Sherlock moved after an hour of sitting still, he moaned loudly. Pain was shooting through his body. He had thought, he could just get up to get the dingy blanket. But now he realized how weak he felt. He supported himself on the wall when he finally came to his feet. He slowly dragged himself along the wall to the corner with the blanket. When he reached the corner, he knelt down and took a closer look. The blanket seemed to be old army inventory, felty and stained. Sherlock swallowed. But did he have a choice? He unfolded the blanket. It smelled badly. Nevertheless he draped the blanked around his naked body. Then he pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned against the wall. He could do nothing but rest at the moment. And hope. For Mycroft to find him. Hope for a way out. Hope they didn’t beat him to death. It was relatively easy at the moment. How he would feel about it in a few days… time would tell.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days were a blur. Sherlock lost track of time. The lightbulb in his cell was always on. Food and water came in unpredictable intervals. Every now and then Goran or another of Ninko’s minions came into Sherlock’s cell. Sherlock was beaten with naked fists, a steel pipe, a crop, a belt. One of the men took pleasure in sticking needles under Sherlock’s fingernails, another in waterboarding. Meanwhile Sherlock’s whole body hurt, big and small wounds everywhere, swellings and bruises in all colors. Sherlock wasn’t sure if all his ribs were still intact. Every breath was painful. They nearly dislocated one of his shoulders on the one occasion when he had fought too much. 

There was not one hour when Sherlock did not wish for Mycroft to finally come to his rescue. He spilled nothing of his plans, sometimes trying to deduce his tormentors to spare himself more pain. He didn’t succeed. Of course not. Moriarty’s men were well trained. And on top of all the hurt, the coldness in his cell and the humiliation of being naked the whole time there was something much more difficult. Sherlock could feel the changes in his body. He felt a certain discomfort, an unnatural warmth, a deep, vague emptiness. And a need that grew stronger with every passing day. 

Finally, Sherlock had no idea how much time had passed since his capture, Goran came into his cell. He was accompanied by a man who was completely new to Sherlock. And he could smell it - stronger than ever before. That man was an Alpha. Through all the time Sherlock had worn his implants he had always been able to smell what or who he had in front of him. This ability would never get lost, it was just dulled by the implant. But now the Alpha’s smell was so strong that it hit Sherlock like a blow to the gut. Once again he was restrained in chains attached to the hooks on the wall. He was barely able to stand. Since the last beating some hours had passed, and Sherlock was exhausted. 

„I’ve brought you someone, bitch. This is Avram. He’s gonna tell us how ripe you are already,“ Goran grinned.   
Avram eyed Sherlock up and down from his place near the door. „You should have left more of him. He looks pretty fucked up already. The boys don’t like their bitches so skinny. Give him more food. Otherwise our fun with him won’t last very long.“  
„He only eats what’s really necessary. Everything beyond that we have to force down his throat.“  
„Then you should do that more often. A heat is stressful. You don’t want him to die out of exhaustion during the heat.“  
„I’m sure he won’t.“  
„I hope so. You know how the boss will react if we go to hard on that bitch.“  
„He can take a lot. Don’t you, slut?“  
Sherlock didn’t respond.  
„Still stubborn,“ Goran hissed. He came closer to Sherlock and hit him full force in the stomach. Sherlock doubled over as far as his chains allowed him to.   
„Or do you want me to release the Alphas right now, hm?“ Goran’s breath was hot and disgusting as ist gusted over Sherlock’s ear. But Sherlock tried to remain as calm and cool as he could.   
„Just a body. Nothing but transport,“ he answered, though every word hurt. His swollen lips were barely able to form understandable words.   
Goran laughed out loud. „Oh, we’ll see if you still talk like that in a few days or weeks.“ He turned to Avram. „Well? What do you think?“

The Alpha came closer, a predatory grin on his face. He stopped directly in front of Sherlock. Sherlock shivered, when Avram took his head into his enormous hands. He could feel the power within these big hands. The Alpha could break his neck easily. For one fleeting moment Sherlock considered this option. But then his will to live won over. The Alpha turned Sherlock’s head to one side and bend close. Sherlock heard and felt his breath, while he was checking Sherlock’s smell. Then he trembled, when the Alpha licked a broad stripe over the spot where Sherlock’s scent glands lay. Blood and sweat didn’t seem to disturb him. When the man released his grip and stepped back, he nodded. The grin on his face was disgusting. 

„Just a few days. The hormones are wearing off surprisingly fast.“  
„What do you suggest?“ Goran asked. He lit a cigarette.   
„Two days until it starts. But make him wait a little longer. That will make him really horny. Friday.“   
Goran nodded. „What ever you say. Friday it is. Will you come?“  
Avram laughed. „You bet I will! And not just once.“ He turned back to Sherlock one last time. „It will be my absolute pleasure,“ he grinned. Then he took a grip on Sherlock’s balls and squeezed, until Sherlock let out a pained sound. He whimpered, as Avram pressed one fingertip further back and finally over his anus. Sherlock couldn’t suppress a shiver full of horrified disgust.   
„Two days,“ Avram repeated. He let go of Sherlock’s balls, then turned and left without another word.

Goran laughed. „You heard him, slut. You can look forward to it now.“He released Sherlock from the chains. Sherlock fell to his knees. He felt weak, everything hurt from the torture. But thinking about what was to come for him in a few days nearly made him sick from disgust, anger and fear. Because he knew what was waiting for him. Goran took a last look at Sherlock, before he spat at him.  
„Freak!“ He exclaimed before he turned and left Sherlock alone in his cell. Sherlock wiped the spit off his face with the back of his hand. Freak… A name that had followed him for more than half of his life now and had been burned into his mind since the first time. Yet he still hated it. Freak meant not being normal. Being different. Excluded. But since early childhood everybody around him had been sure that Sherlock with his exceptional personality would present as an Alpha during puberty. The opposite happened. After this first heat Sherlock’s life had never been the same. 

Sherlock had been 14 years old when he experienced his first heat. That had changed his life 180 degrees. He remembered how horrified he had felt to be completely at his own body’s mercy. And it was not that alone. People looked at him differently. Judged him differently. Expected other things from him than before. Not his parents, but most of his relatives and most of all his few schoolfriends and his whole school environment. His plan to study chemistry? What for? He was an Omega. Most Omegas searched for a bondmate and started a family. The only people who supported his wish to study were his parents. Sherlocks father was an Alpha, his mother an Omega. But she, too, had studied and was a mathematician. She had been a pioneer at her university: the first female Omega studying mathematics, and she had made her exams as one of the best of her year. Sherlock’s parents had met during university. Sherlock’s father had always supported his exceptional girlfriend and in the end married and bonded her. So it had been no question that Sherlock’s parents had supported their son and his plans to study. 

But Mycroft had been influenced by other, more distant relatives who had thought Sherlock’s plans were inappropriate and unnecessary. Some of them had even tried to talk him out of his plans. And Mycroft had offered to help Sherlock find a suitable Alpha for a bond. Even at the age of 14 Sherlock had been terrified by this possibility. But his body reminded him every 8 weeks about how his life should look like. And Sherlock hated it more than everything else. He had always spent the three days of his heat alone locked inside his room. He had insisted he wanted to study chemistry and started when he was 17. He was one of the few Omegas in this field of study. Once again he had been the freak, because he had enrolled this study. The reactions of his fellow students varied. The Betas ignored him. The few Omegas of other faculties avoided him. Most of the Alphas behaved in an inappropriate way, some even tried to molest him. That’s why Sherlock hadn’t lived together with the other students in the dorm. His parents payed for a small apartment of his own near the university. Still it had been impossible to function on a regular basis during his heats. And so he had to leave university every 8 weeks to spend a week at home in his old room for his heat. 

When he was 18 he had used the free time between semesters to get his first hormonal implant. That gave him a new kind of freedom. Shortly after he had tried out his first sexual experiences. Which young man wouldn’t want to try himself out? Although Sherlock had always been careful to only choose Betas. Because the risk of getting caught as an Omega was much higher during sex, of course. There had never been penetrative sex. Sherlock had never given or received more than hand- or blowjobs, otherwise his biology would have spilled his secret. After some months of experimentation with some girls and boys Sherlock had decided not to indulge in sexual relationships any longer. It wasn’t worth his time. Reaching orgasm on his own whenever it was necessary wouldn’t be a problem. So he had chosen a celibate life and had been very content with it. Out of heat he had never felt the urge to be with an Alpha. The raw sexual presence of an aroused Alpha had always been abhorrent to him. Sherlock had never wanted to be a sextoy. So just thinking about being with an Alpha with all its consequences had been disgusting. In Sherlock’s eyes it was nothing but primal: a coupling with canine resemblance like between animals. 

But at this very moment Sherlock’s hormones went out of control. It felt more and more difficult for Sherlock with every passing hour. His body was changing, and he was completely helpless and felt weak. Maybe he should have eaten more… but the little food he got was a challenge in every prospect. The bread was old, stale and very hard. Sherlock was barely able to chew it, because his jaws hurt from the beatings. He tried to soften the bread with his saliva, but it was not easy. He only had one bottle of water a day. His food mostly consisted of some porridge and a watery stew now and then, with disgusting little chunks of meat full of gristle and sinews. Sherlock never dared to consider what else was in this stew. If he really had to endure a heat, servicing different Alphas, he would need every calorie he could get. Seemed it was already to late now for such thoughts…

Many hours later - Sherlock was thrashing in his half-sleep. He felt terribly hot. The strange feeling inside of him grew stronger with every passing minute. Meanwhile spasming cramps took hold of his pelvis. Finally he awoke, covered in sweat. He moaned, when he rolled himself together into a ball. He remembered the feeling that started to take hold of his every cell. He remembered - and he hated it. His heat was almost there. Only a few hours left until he would be mad with sexual desire and need. Sherlock desperately grabbed his filthy curls. And then he felt it. A small gush of a warm, viscous liquid between the cheeks of his bum. He tried to clench his sphincter, but didn’t succeed. Just like many years ago. The body of a male Omega had different systems for digestion and reproduction. The orifice was the same. But during heat the digestion system constricted and made room for the expanding reproductive system. The pseudo-vagina, which male Omegas had, expanded. Penetration would take place through the opening of the anus, but during heat an Alpha would enter the pseudo-vagina and not come into contact with the bowel. Male Omegas gave birth the same way. During heat every Omega produced much slick to ease the penetration for the Alpha. This was the most telltale sign: Sherlock’s heat had started. 

Sherlock felt tears of despair prickling in his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to deny his body’s needs and demands. Especially not when the first Alpha would approach him. He was petrified for what was to come. That was something completely new to him. Sherlock wasn’t afraid of anybody and anything. Beatings and pain where something he was able to endure to a certain degree. Damn, he already had, hadn’t he? But this… Sherlock remembered the drawings and diagrams in his parents’ anatomy books. And the much simpler ones in his school books. Sherlock gagged, as he thought about how a coupling between Alpha and Omega during heat usually ended. Alphas had an extra erectile tissue at the base of their penis. This knot swelled before orgasm and would connect Alpha and Omega for a time between just some minutes up to more than the quarter of an hour. From an evolutionary point of view this surely made sense. An Omega was only fertile during his three days of heat. The knotting gave the Alpha’s semen the best chances and would prevent another coupling. And only an Alpha’s knot gave an Omega in heat real sexual satisfaction. This had always been unthinkable for Sherlock. But now he knew it wouldn’t be long until he craved an Alpha’s knot for the first time in almost 20 years…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still struggling with formatting. Hope, I get better with that... 
> 
> If anything sounds weird, if sentences don't make sense - please tell me. I always want to get better. Thanks!

During the following hours Sherlock’s resistance began to crumble. His tries to find some relief through masturbation were not successful. It helped for barely an hour until his arousal came back even stronger. The hollow feeling inside his pelvis became a constant ache. He knew that only a coupling with an Alpha would bring him relief. But the idea was still pure horror. 

When Sherlock heard footsteps approaching, his heartbeat sped up in fear. He scrambled into the corner of his cell farthest from the door, dragging his filthy blanket behind him. The rough texture hurt on his over sensitive skin, when he wrapped the fabric around his shoulders and curled into a ball. The door opened. 

„Holy shit! That’s what I call an Omega in heat!“ Avram stepped into Sherlock’s cell, followed by Goran. And though Sherlock had vowed to himself not to do it, he did it now: he begged.   
„Please don’t do that. Please. I… I can’t do that. I can’t stand it…“ He looked up with fearful eyes.   
„Too late, bitch.“ Goran took Sherlock’s arm and pulled him to his feet. „But first we’ll clean you up for the boys.“  
Goran and Avram dragged him into another cell. Sherlock had been there a few times already. When ever Moriarty’s men had found it necessary, they had brought him here to hose him down with cold water. Goran pushed Sherlock into a corner of the cell, while Avram already turned the water on. Goran tossed a flannel into Sherlock’s direction.  
„Go on! Clean yourself, you reek!“ He yelled. Sherlock took the flannel with shaking hands. The water was icy, but Sherlock was nearly thankful for the cold. Even his erection, that had plagued since the last hour, flagged. Sherlock was gasping for air, as he knelt on the tiled floor and tried to avoid the hard stream of water. He cleaned himself with the flannel, trying not to afflict to much pain on his many wounds. His hands were trembling. After two minutes Avram turned the water down. 

„Up,“ Goran commanded. He buried his fist in Sherlock’s hair and pulled. Sherlock came to his feet with a cry. He tried to fight. All it took was a few blows from Goran, and Sherlock gave up. He felt dizzy, was barely able to stay upright. Goran dragged Sherlock along a corridor into a new cell. Three men were already waiting for them. That was the moment when Sherlock felt actual panic rising. Two of the men were Alphas, he could tell by their smell. Together with Avram, who had followed them, this made three Alphas being here for only one reason. In the middle of the room was a mattress with somewhat clean sheets.   
„Please don’t! Please!“ Sherlock exclaimed, when Goran pushed him towards the mattress. Sherlock cried out in pain, when he fell onto his left side - the side that hurt the most. He was paralyzed, staring up at the Alphas, his eyes wide. He knew he had no chance to fight them. The Alphas stared at him with lustful eyes and inhaled deeply. They checked his scent. 

„Oh, he really is ready,“ one of the men said. He had a very hard Serbian accent. He grinned when he put a hand on his crotch. Sherlock swallowed hard.   
„Don’t do that,“ he begged again, his voice trembling. The strong Alpha scent began to cloud his senses. He was mortified when he felt his cock hardening again. Sherlock tried to cover his growing erection with his hands, to will it away with his will power - knowing he could never succeed.   
„Just look at him… the Omega cunt is getting impatient! Well, let’s not disappoint him.“ Goran made an inviting gesture. The Alphas needn’t be told twice. 

Sherlock finally allowed his tears to fall after an hour of being left alone back in his cell. But then they came in such an amount that he was hardly able to breathe between his sobs. He was in pain, of course. The couplings had been rough. And Sherlock had never been with an Alpha before. He reached between his legs and flinched. When he pulled his hand back and looked at his fingers, he saw not only his own slick, but it was mixed with the Alpha’s semen and some blood. It was a wonder they finally had let go of him. But Sherlock knew they would come back. A regular heat lasted three days. Enough time to do unspeakable things to Sherlock. Sherlock gagged when he thought about the last hours and that he would have to endure this special torture over and over again. Right now, though, he was so tired that his eyes fell closed. At least this insatiable need and lust was gone for the moment. Sherlock knew it would come back. And then the Alphas would come back, too. He cried himself into an uneasy sleep. 

Later Sherlock would remember the two following days only vaguely. He tried to retreat into his mind palace during the many episodes of sexual violence, but it didn’t work. Now that he was in heat his body’s demands were too strong to ignore them. There was only one urge left: reproduction. Sherlock didn’t know what was worse: foreign Alphas just taking their right to mount and breed him, cause he was an unbonded Omega. Or was it worse that he let them do, whatever they wanted? He lay stockstill while tears were streaming down his face and his body reacted automatically to the unwanted stimulation. As soon as one of the Alphas came near him Sherlock fell victim to his Omega self. He barely was able to resist them. Sherlock hated every second of his weakness. He was full of shame and disgust for himself. Whenever he was left alone for a few hours he fell into an exhausted sleep. Until the Alphas came back… 

At the end of his three day heat Sherlock awoke from one of his exhausted slumbers, feeling that the worst was over now. The fever of his heat had dropped a good deal. It was the first time after three days of sexual frenzy that he felt conscious again. More like his usual self. He had no idea how long he had slept. When he sat up, he couldn’t suppress a moan. He felt sore between his legs, sticky and filthy. What he would give for a warm shower! But he would be grateful even for the hose and the ice cold water to rinse away the remnants of his weakness and his ultimate humiliation. 

When he very carefully stood up, he felt warm liquid trickle down his thighs. He looked down and retched. How did other Omegas endure the days of their heat? Why did only so little Omegas decide to wear an implant? Even if Sherlock had agreed and consented to spend his heat with somebody, he would have felt an equal disgust right now. Only he wouldn’t feel so used and wouldn’t feel such pain. Sherlock tried to wipe the mix of fluids from his skin. Then he squatted over his bucket, trying to expel most of the liquids. It went better then anticipated. But he desperately wished he had some water to wash. Plus he was really hungry and thirsty. He had to wait a few more hours, before he finally got some food and water. He asked if he would be allowed to wash. A mistake he instantly regretted, followed by many blows and finally the riding crop. Some of the wounds on his back, that had started to heal, broke open again. In the end he lay on the floor of his cell, bleeding and panting. Nevertheless he devoured his food and gulped down the water before he once again curled into a fetal position and wished he could just disappear from the world. 

His only relief was, that none of the Alphas had bitten him. One more savage thing that had always horrified him. The bite of an Alpha into the scent glands on an Omega’s neck triggered a hormonal reaction, creating an unbreakable bond between Alpha and Omega. In a loving relationship the bondbite was a sign of absolute trust and a deep connection. But an Alpha could also force a bondbite onto an Omega, tying the Omega to the Alpha against his will. The bond, sealed through the bite, would last a lifetime - until one of the bondmates died. After the loss of their bondmate the remaining partner would very rarely bond again. 

If one of the Alphas had bitten Sherlock and forced him into a bond, Sherlock wouldn’t have had any chance to avoid the bonding, and he wouldn’t have been able to ever leave the Alpha. At least Sherlock was spared this fate - yet. But nobody could tell if it would or would not happen in the near future. The prospect of a forced bond filled Sherlock with terror. His only hope was that none of the Alphas would have any interest to bond with him. Be it that they considered him a burden or that they wouldn’t want to be assumed sentimental oder gay. These men lived in an evironment that was dominated by male authority and brutality. No place for sentiment, and certainly no place for homosexuality. Sherlock could only hope this situation wouldn’t change. If one of the Alphas would force him into an unwanted bond… well, then maybe death was a better option after all…

Sherlock had really thought that the sexual assaults would end together with his heat. But he was proved wrong very quickly. After being broken in by the Alphas Sherlock was now a free for all for Moriarty’s men to use him in every way they wanted to. Each of them seemed keen to humiliate him and demonstrate their power over him. Even Betas were among them now, who wouldn’t want to waste an opportunity. When this happened, Sherlock tried to fight them. But his initial resistance faded very rapidly when the violence increased. Sherlock felt helpless and more and more hopeless when he realized: He was reduced to a sex toy now - for everyone to use. 

The carnal violence continued, but nearly every day interrupted by sexual assaults. Every man seemed to be allowed to use his body like he pleased. Sherlock was barely able to remember a time when he hadn’t had to endure this endless, brutal pain. He had never thought there would come a time in his life when he would desire his next heat to begin. At least during heat his body would open for penetration and would produce enough slick to make it less painful and easier to endure. But a cycle typically lasted eight weeks. Sherlock was not sure if he would be able to go through these many weeks without permanent damage. 

But there was more that concerned him. Was Mycroft still looking for him? Would he live up to the moment Mycroft found him? And would he want to live until then? He felt so used, dirty, humiliated, broken - a failure in every prospect. Every sense of time got lost. At least the cold water and the hose were now a more or less regular occurrence to wash away the traces of the rapes before they would be replaced through new ones. Whenever he lay alone in his cell, drifting in and out of sleep, he dreamed himself home. Home to Baker street. To John. John Watson. His best friend. The man who was so much more to him than every other human before. The man he endured all this for. To guarantee John’s safety. And he couldn’t even know, if John was still alive. Or if Moriarty’s men had already killed him. Did everything he had to go through make any sense? Or did he force himself into surviving this for… nothing? But did he have a choice? If Moriarty’s men didn’t have the intention to kill him, and it didn’t look like that at the moment, he would have to be at their disposal for their every cravings. The thought made Sherlock shiver. He was cold and pulled his filthy blanket closer around himself.

***

Sherlock threw up into the bucket that was his toilet. The stench that filled his nostrils made him retch even more. If he was honest with himself, he was surprised he hadn’t catched a stomach bug much earlier. The circumstances under which he was living were far from hygienic. At least his tormentors hosed him down with cold water on a nearly regular basis now. Didn’t want to dirty themselves on his body whenever they used him for their pleasure. And so the many wounds on his skin were not in a really bad condition. If Sherlock should be grateful for this treatment, he wasn’t sure. Because it was unlikely he would die of septicemia, which would be an unpleasant way to go, though.

Sherlock crawled away from his disgusting bucket, wiping saliva from his lips with the back of his hand. He crouched down in one corner of his cell. He would have cried, if he hadn’t been too tired to even cry. Then he heard a key unlocking the door. Avram and another Alpha, Sherlock didn’t now him by name but remembered him as one of his rapists, entered his cell, followed by a man that was completely new to Sherlock.  
„On your feet, slut! Time for your shower, we have an important visitor!“ Avram grinned to the man Sherlock hadn’t seen before. „We’ll clean him up for the boss, don’t worry.“  
Sherlock looked up to the three men with only his eyes. He didn’t even find the strength to lift his head. The unknown man seemed appalled and disgusted.   
„Dear lord, that’s gross. You can’t present him to the boss in this state.“  
„As I said: we’ll do something about that.“ Avram stepped closer to Sherlock, but stopped in the middle of the room. He stared down at Sherlock.  
„Zlatko - do you smell that?“  
The second Alpha approached him and sniffed. „Oh crap…“  
„What?“ The stranger asked.  
Avram turned to him. „The bitch is pregnant!“  
Now Sherlock’s head came up, before he could prevent it. Pregnant? Who? He himself? No. That was impossible!  
„Didn’t know it, eh? Congrats, slut! Which of our boys may be the father of this pup?“ Zlatko asked.   
„Who ever it is, he won’t be happy about it.“  
Both Alphas looked Sherlock up and down. He stared at them in disbelief. His mind was blank.   
„Maybe it’s for the best if this bastard isn’t being born.“  
„Call for an abortionist just for this bitch? Who blabs about us in the end? The boss would freak out.“  
Sherlock felt a shiver running down his spine. Illegal abortions were always dangerous. Especially for male Omegas. The fact that the Alphas had noticed his pregnancy just began to sink in. The thought that he was pregnant was too abstract right know.   
„Hm… We have to tell the boss anyway. Come on.“  
„And what about -“  
„Can wait.“  
The men left Sherlock’s cell, the lock clicked close. Sherlock took a shuddering breath. Then he looked down at his stomach. He knew he had lost track of time. But there was a certain regularity that had set in. And so Sherlock was able to estimate that the end of his heat must have been roughly five weeks ago. Of course an Alpha would smell it, if a fertilized egg had nested into his uterus and began to mix up his hormones. It was an unconscious gesture that Sherlock laid both hands onto his belly. He was much too thin. He would never been able to carry a pregnancy to term. Let alone survive a birth. A pregnancy? A birth? He - Sherlock Holmes? What the hell was he thinking about? He and a child? The idea was strange. At the moment there was nothing but surprise. The idea that there was a child growing inside him was bizarre. A child from one of the men who had been torturing and raping him for weeks now… Once again Sherlock felt bile rise in his throat. He crawled back to his bucket to throw up again. 

Some time later the door was opened again. Now it was Goran who dragged Sherlock out of his cell, hosed him down and threw a towel at him. Sherlock grabbed it with trembling hands. That was new. He very carefully rubbed himself dry and waited - shivering and swaying, the towel still in his hands, waiting.  
„Move, you son of a bitch!“ Goran shoved Sherlock down some corridors that were completely new to him. He tried to memorize every detail, but it was difficult. His mind was not clear, he was exhausted and barely found the strength to even lift his feet. At the end of one corridor was an open door. Sherlock recognized one of Moriarty’s men, who opened the door for him with a grin. Goran pushed Sherlock through. The push into his wounded back made Sherlock stumble and fall. 

„Here he is, Colonel!“ Goran declared. Sherlock looked up.   
„Did someone say you were allowed to look at the boss, bitch?“ Goran’s kick met Sherlock’s ribs. He cried out and curled into himself.   
„Stop this shit, Goran! Make him stand,“ the man Goran had referred to as Colonel, said. His voice was stern, but not loud. Goran mumbled something, but pushed into Sherlock’s shoulder. „You heard what the Colonel said. Stand up.“  
Sherlock pushed himself up with a low groan until he was standing upright, clutching the towel to cover his nakedness. Despite the fatigue that nearly paralyzed him and though his whole body was aching, he looked at the man. And recognized him. Oh yes, he recognized him. His tired, groggy mind needed a moment, to sort the face out to a name, but then it flashed up in Sherlock’s mind: Sebastian Moran. Jim Moriarty’s right hand man. The man who should have been Sherlock’s last target. It was because of this man that he endured all this. Moran had been an army colonel. If John was here, he would have instantly know who he was. Moran was an excellent marksman, decorated many times during his service in the middle east. He was a war hero. But he had left the army and chosen a very different life. It wasn’t clear when he had started to work for Moriarty. But he had become an essential part of Moriarty’s web. He was one of the few pulling the strings in the background. But now and then he had taken on eliminating some men, just not to lose practice. His abilities with a gun were exceptional. 

And now this same man stood right before him, wearing a dark suit and eyed Sherlock up and down, his disdain for Sherlock clearly visible for everyone to see. He had his arms crossed, his face was stony. Sebastian Moran was a tall man, nearly fifty years old, still well trained. He was an attractive man, but his grey eyes were icy. His haircut was still short like straight from military service - very much like John’s, when Sherlock first met him. Even his posture reminded Sherlock of John, but he couldn’t be less like him. Sherlock fought against nausea. Moran was capable of everything. 

Ninko stood two steps away from him, hands clasped behind his back. Sherlock hadn’t seen him for weeks now. Apparently he hadn’t wanted to get his hands dirty. He had never violated Sherlock in any way.   
„Finally we meet. Sherlock Holmes.“ Moran accentuated every syllable of Sherlock’s name, a cold smile on his face.   
„The last time I say you, you were standing on the roof of St. Bart’s hospital. You changed much during the last months. Not much left of the stylish, arrogant detective. Just a fuck toy for my men to play with. Don’t be mad at them. They rarely see any women here.“  
Sherlock licked his lips. They were crusted and swollen from the repeated beatings.   
„Maybe I should have shot you then. Or your Dr. Watson. But in the end he wasn’t even worth they effort. A little former army doctor. A loser in every way. Not worth a penny without you.“   
Sherlock felt a spark of his usual temper and anger when he heard Moran insulting his best friend.   
„John is worth more than all of your minions together,“ he said - ignoring that every word could put him into danger. Sherlock was surprised, when Moran started to laugh.  
„Still stubborn, I see!“ But his laughter died on his lips, when he shot a look at Ninko. Sherlock couldn’t miss how Ninko stiffened. But then Moran turned back to Sherlock.   
„You should have other concerns now but your Dr. Watson. Shouldn’t you?“ Slowly Moran came closer. Sherlock tried to remain still and calm.   
„Sherlock Holmes, an Omega. And pregnant. When my men told me you are an Omega, I was really surprised. But you know what?“   
Moran stopped directly in front of Sherlock. He looks him straight in the eyes. „It suits you. You are nothing but a worthless piece of shit. James Moriarty had thought he had found a worthy opponent. In the end he was wrong. You are nothing more than a puny little Omega. A wannabe. And it’s only adequate that you now just hit rock bottom. Nothing but a toy for my men. Time will show if you get to give birth to your bastard. It’s such a shame James had to die because of you. You are nowhere near as interesting as Jim had always claimed you were.“  
„You say that because you’re not nearly able to compete with my intellect,“ Sherlock retorted. The next moment he received the hardest slap in the face he had ever thought possible.   
„Still unbroken,“ Moran hissed. Sherlock turned his had back to Moran, ignoring the pain. A small trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth, where Moran had hit him. He said nothing, just looked at Moran. Both men stared into each others eyes for one long moment. Until Moran, without breaking eye contact, said: „Bring this piece of shit back to his cell. He will spend the rest of his pathetic life in there and die during the birth of his bastard. Ninko - we have to talk.“ With these words Moran finally turned his back to Sherlock. Goran took Sherlock’s arm.   
„You’ve heard the boss. Back into your cell.“ Goran pulled Sherlock along with him into his cell. He snatched the towel out of his hands, then gave him a hard shove, that send Sherlock to the floor. The door was closed, the key turned.


	4. Chapter 4

After the door was closed, Sherlock knelt on the floor, breathing heavily. He tried to make sense out of Moran’s words about John. _A loser in every way. Not worth a penny without you._ That at least meant, that John was still alive. But how was he? Where was he? Was he safe? Did that mean, that Moriarty’s men were still keeping track of John? Or had they already dismissed him as unimportant? 

Sherlock flung his arms around himself and crouched down. John… He wished he had been able to say goodbye to John. He wished he could see John once again. The last time he had seen him, John was stood before this black headstone with Sherlock’s name on it, begging for a miracle. Begging not to be dead. If he had known that Sherlock was still alive and was here in a cell in the middle of nowhere in Serbia - tortured, raped and pregnant - maybe John would have wished him the opposite. Sherlock’s heart ached, when he thought about John. His best and only friend. 

Sherlock closed his eyes. For a fleeting moment he saw their living room in Baker Street, John in his chair reading a crime novel. Such a well know, comforting sight… A sight Sherlock wouldn’t see again any time soon. If he would see it again at all. Where was John now? Was he at Baker Street at this very moment? Did he still mourn Sherlock? Did he think of him? Did he still miss him? Just like Sherlock missed him? Oh, and Sherlock missed him terribly… Would he live to see John again? 

Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed. Than he slowly crawled into the corner where his blanket lay. He covered himself with it, turned onto his side and rolled into a fetal position. Other thoughts made their way into the memories of his best friend. Sherlock’s hand came to rest on his belly. He tried do feel something, that wasn’t palpable. He was pregnant - yet. Sherlock didn’t know anything about pregnancies. But he was fairly certain it would do no good to be repeatedly raped. Would they stop raping him now? And he wouldn’t go into heat again. But Sherlock doubted any of the men would care about that. 

He couldn’t suppress a shiver. Not only because he was cold. He was scared. The rapes had been bad enough during his heats. But it had been so much worse after the heat when he was completely lucid - the pain, the humiliation. And the child? 

Thinking about how this child had been conceived made him nauseous. Even more so when he thought about the fact that the offspring of one of his rapists grew inside him. On the other hand… the child couldn’t help it who their father was. And Sherlock wondered if it wouldn’t be better for both of them if the child would never be born. Most likely. But then why was he ashamed of such a thought? Just because he was an Omega. He was sure about that. An Omega’s instinct was very strong when it came to his offspring. His brain told Sherlock that a miscarriage would be the best for him and the child. But his heart… his traitorous Omega heart was already feeling for this unwanted child. 

Sherlock buried his hands in his dark curls and suppressed a desperate cry. He cursed his blasted fate. Wasn’t he suffering enough already? Where was Mycroft?

Over the next weeks Sherlock’s slowly growing belly became more and more obvious for everybody. But that didn’t keep anybody from raping him, the violence continued. There was not a single spot left on Sherlock’s body that didn’t hurt. Sherlock knew his tormentors didn’t care if they threatened the life of the unborn child. That wasn’t important. On the contrary. It was one more opportunity to cause him pain and sorrow. Everybody knew Sherlock wouldn’t be able to resist his instincts forever. Sooner or later Sherlock would do everything to protect his child. If not he would experience a bad meltdown. And of course that was exactly what happened. 

Every time Sherlock had to endure another rape he feared a miscarriage. Sherlock was afraid he wouldn’t survive such an incident. He was weak, hurt and malnourished. He still only got little amounts of food and water which he devoured now to keep the child and himself alive. He couldn’t help it. He told himself it was the fetus that made him do this. Not his own instinct telling him to protect his child. The child soon became a symbol for Sherlock’s own survival. As long a the child inside him was still alive, Sherlock would live, too. These two things were connected. 

He couldn’t help it but to worry about his unborn child. Every time he was alone his thoughts focused only on two subjects: the child and John. If John knew what was happening to Sherlock… Time finally lost all meaning. Sherlock could only measure it through the growing of his belly. And his belly grew constantly.

After an especially bad experience with one of the Alphas Sherlock lay in in cell and shivered. The pain in his pelvis was excruciating. He knew that he was bleeding. Again. He was sure that something bad had happened. It had been a long time since someone had taken him that brutally. 

Sherlock was caught in a crying fit for hours that left him totally exhausted, clutching his belly. Because this was the moment that made it painfully real for Sherlock: He was with child. A child he would probably lose now. And maybe he wouldn’t survive this. 

Sherlock choked on this realization that took all the air from his lungs. And left him panicked. Of course he hadn’t wanted this child. Since being told he was pregnant, he had feared to suffer a miscarriage every time he was violated. The rational part of his mind had hoped for a miscarriage. He had never wanted children. He had always hated his Omega nature. An end to the pregnancy would be for the best. But the more time passed, the more his instinct had won over his rational mind. It was the instinct to survive, not to give up. His own life and the life of the child were inseparably connected. And he knew: losing his child would finally break him. 

Sherlock’s hands roamed over his naked, dirty belly. He just wished he could do something. But he was doomed to his helplessness. He cried himself into an uneasy sleep.

Sherlock was relieved when he awoke and the pain had receded. He still felt sore, but the bleeding had stopped. Seemed like everything was still alright. For this time. But what about the next time? 

More weeks passed. Sherlock hoped with every hit, every injury, every rape, that the child inside him wouldn’t get harmed. If he lost the child, he would die, too. He somehow endured his own pain. He didn’t know how. And slowly he lost hope that Mycroft would finally find and rescue him. 

„No, please! Please don’t! Oh god, please don’t!“ Sherlock’s voice was panicked and shrill. He tried to protect his belly with his arms, bend forward. He couldn’t let something happen to the child. If the child was harmed, Sherlock would likely die, too.  
„Ah, finally we got you! Do you think we would let you give birth to your bastard, you bitch? Do you really think that?“  
„Please don’t… I tell you everything you want to know!“  
Goran laughed nearly hysterically. „You think we still care about that? You plans have failed! You were much fun for us. You don’t expect us to go on without your services, don’t you?“  
„I’ll do everything, really. I’ll do what ever you want.“ 

Sherlock felt tears running down his cheeks. He’d thought he’d hadn’t any tears left. But the sight of the four men that had entered his cell moments before had sent him into panic. Something was different this time. The way they looked at him. How they looked at his pregnant belly. The disgusting grins on their faces. Sherlock felt an ice cold fear and knew: These men were not here to beat and rape him. They were here to deliver the ultimate blow. Through killing his child. 

Sherlock slowly retreated back into a corner of his cell. He felt so weak, he could barely stand. But facing this abomination let so much adrenalin flow through his veins, that he was able to mobilize his last strength. 

With long strides one of the men came near. His fist crashed into Sherlock’s temple, and Sherlock stumbled. Everything went foggy for a moment and began to spin. He catched himself on the wall. A different man grabbed his arm and spun him around into the arms of his companions. Sherlock cried out when they started to pummel him. He doubled up, shielding his belly with the rest of his body. 

Then suddenly there were shouts, shots and commotion outside in the corridors. The four men let go of Sherlock and hurried out of the cell. Sherlock sank to the floor, curled into himself, trying to make himself as small as possible. What ever was going on outside, he barely registered it. He was in panic. All he could do was to squint his eyes shut and try to fade out. 

***

Dr. John Watson was repeatedly drumming the fingertips of his left hand onto his knee. He was so sick of waiting! But he was forced to obey the commands of the MI 6 team he was with. When Mycroft had lost contact to Sherlock, John had gone mad with worry. Every day without any sign of Sherlock had made John more and more agitated. Mycroft Holmes of all things, the man who was the British government, had not been able to locate his own little brother. His agents were the best, but even the MI 6 had lost track of Sherlock. But only some days before a double agent had sent them a new promising hint. Finally.

And now John was sitting among a group of MI 6 agents, waiting for the command to start the intervention. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen soon. The situation was grating on John’s nerves. He tried to hide it and retreated behind his army personality. And being Captain John Watson had granted him a certain respect of the agents. 

Nevertheless it was clear to everybody that John was an Omega among a bunch of Alpha and Beta agents and soldiers. Even if he was sterile, didn’t go into heat anymore. Not since he’d been 16, when an infection in his abdomen had changed him forever. Now John was what was known as an _empty Omega_ : infertile, without any cycle, technically barely more than a Beta, but still a victim to his Omega instincts. 

After all, this fate had made it possible for him to study medicine and later to join the army. Omegas were usually not allowed to join the army. But everything John had achieved through and because of his handicap had been lost the moment a bullet had pierced his shoulder in Afghanistan. 

Back in London, finally somewhat recovered from his injury, he had been introduced to Sherlock Holmes. Who had seeked John’s fate voluntarily. Who had chosen to suppress his heats with powerful hormonal implants, hating his Omega status and searching a completely different life.

It seemed like these two very special Omegas had just waited for one another. They moved in together after just two days and had become best friends. Of course John didn’t agree with many of Sherlock’s decisions in life, but he didn’t judge him for them. But now… it was the first time Sherlock was neck deep in trouble.

It was nearly twelve months now since Sherlock’s jump from the roof of St. Bart’s hospital. 

John didn’t have any clue about the truth during the first months after Sherlock’s death. He had mourned his best friend like he had never mourned someone before. John had left Baker Street and broke contact to friends and acquaintances. About seven months after Sherlock’s death Mycroft Holmes had visited John one morning in his small, boring bedsit to tell him the truth. Together with the extra information that Sherlock was missing. Mycroft had lost contact to his brother some days ago. It had seemed he had simply vanished from his radar. 

At first John didn’t believe one single word. Then he had yelled at Mycroft, thrown him out of his apartment and got heavily drunk. And after that he had cried for hours. Because he was angry, disappointed, finally relieved and in the end scared for his best friend. It was a strange mixture of feelings. 

John had phoned Mycroft the next morning to ask him, if he could help him find Sherlock. Mycroft had visited him again to explain in detail everything that happened after Sherlock’s jump of the roof. And what they had tried to achieve since. 

To protect his friends, especially John Watson, Sherlock had thrown himself into danger with grim determination. He had started to infiltrate Moriarty’s network, not caring about his own safety and wellbeing. And he had to do it mostly by himself, depending just onto his own abilities. Mycroft wouldn’t really be able to intervene, he would just observe him. But Mycroft’s men had lost him. Sherlock had just disappeared. The last sign of him had been near Zagubica. 

A dense woodland made it difficult to locate him and provided excellent camouflage for Moriarty’s men. Mycroft had sent a couple of agents - so far they hadn’t been successful. Information about Sherlock was there, but scarce. Finally there was more than a hint, a really promising trail. And now here they were in the middle of the Serbian woodland near Stragari. Mycroft had sent all men he was able to spare to find out, where his little brother was hidden. Hopefully they were on the right track. The element of surprise had to be on their side. They wouldn’t get a second chance to find Sherlock alive. 

John took a deep breath, tried to calm his heartbeat. He had to keep a clear mind. He wouldn’t be part of the first team to force the hiding place, but he would be directly after them. Similar to the other members of the teams, he was equipped for such a mission. The military attire he was wearing was without any insignia, but John had memorized the most important members of the team. 

John would never admit it, but it felt shockingly good to wear uniform again. John had brought his own SIG Sauer. But he wore a walkie talkie and a combat knife at his belt and was allowed to carry a HK417 if necessary. John was used to this type of gun, he had already used it in Afghanistan. But he hoped he wouldn’t be forced to use it. In fact he even didn’t want to take it with him into the hiding place. He wanted to rely on his SIG Sauer. If they found Sherlock today he didn’t want to burden himself with a rifle but wanted to take care of his friend. Because he feared they wouldn’t find Sherlock in a good condition. If he was in captivity since the day Mycroft had lost track of him, he would have been through hell. 

The engine of the military van was started again. John squared his shoulders. He knew the other members of the team were now extremely concentrated. The talk was low, everybody was on alert. It took a little while until the van stopped again. The team got ready to leave. 

The commanding officer, major Andrew Pine, approached John. „Dr. Watson - you’ll stay with Bishop and Apone. No solo attempts. Understood?“  
John nodded. „Of course, sir.“  
„Our goals are clearly defined. Don’t forget that. Can I trust you?“ the major pressed.  
„Yes, sir.“  
„Good.“ Pine smiled at John. „Don’t worry. We have everything under control.“  
John only nodded again. Andrew Pine was an earnest but friendly man. John had come to know him a little during the last days. If he had served under him, he was sure they would have gone along very well. John knew that the team would work together perfectly. Pine was a good and respected superior. 

One of the men opened the doors of the van. The team left in controlled formation, the vanguard with their weapons ready. Adrenalin flowed through John’s body while he followed the men he was teamed up with. Sight was good though night was starting to fall. They wanted to reach and secure the hiding place before darkness. 

„Doc - stay back. We’ll leave the field to the first two teams,“ Apone whispered while he walked by John’s side. They fell a little back. Apone was a captain like John. Bishop was a lieutenant, he went two steps before them. John nodded. He took a look at his left hand. It was perfectly steady - like always when John was stressed. His thoughts were with Sherlock. 

They could see the building they wanted to reach now, hidden between the trees. It was a great building, a former ammunition dump, long abandoned and vanished from modern maps. They hadn’t even been able to procure construction maps. And John had to admit he was a little out of practice. He had to leave the field to major Pine and his team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! John is an Omega. I am sure most of you expected him to be an Alpha. But I didn't want such a stereotype. And believe me, John is (just like Sherlock) an extraordinary Omega.
> 
> Tell me what you think, please!


	5. Chapter 5

John was left behind with his two companions, while the first teams started the mission. When all of a sudden shots fell, John could hear shouts and orders. Finally Apone received an all-clear over his walkie-talkie, confirming the building was clear and safe. Apone, Bishop and John were allowed to move forward. The first Serbians were already lead away. John looked into faces that made him sick. He tried not to think about what these men may have done to his best friend. John could smell the scent of the Alphas and felt the glances they threw at him. He may be an empty Omega, but he was still an Omega. And the Alphas were of course able to smell that. John squared his shoulders. He was used to such glances for many years. They didn’t get to him anymore. 

Major Pine waited for them in front of the former ammunition dump.  
„Doc - the building is clear. But no solo attempts, okay? You stay with Apone and Bishop.“  
„Yes, sir.“  
„We haven’t found him, yet. But don’t worry, we’ll find him.“  
John just nodded. He had confidence in the abilities of the team and now entered the building side by side with Apone.

John had his gun ready, wanting to be prepared for everything. The war had taught him never to let his guard down too early. He followed Apone through the corridors. Every room he looked into made him more and more sick. It was clear from first sight what took place inside these rooms. These were torture chambers. And John immediately knew what these men had done to Sherlock. He clung to the hope that Sherlock was still alive and still sane. Because John knew what torture could do to people. He had seen the results, and he dreaded them. Even Sherlock Holmes was not capable to survive torture without experiencing mental damage. 

John heard shouts and exchange of fire somewhere in front of him. Apone and Bishop flanked him through these chambers of horror. John couldn’t understand why Moriarty had gathered men like these around him. On the other hand, Moriarty had put himself above everybody else. Surely he’d had subordinates to deal with these kind of men. John was sure they would discover how Moriarty’s network here in Serbia had been organized. 

But now John’s first priority was to find his best friend. Alive. Some more shots were fired, this time outside the building. Apone turned around. John saw the tension in his body. 

„I’ll be alright, captain. The other teams in front of me have cleared everything,“ John said quietly but with a firm voice.   
Apone shook his head. „I won’t leave you alone, doc. Bishop - you go outside. Report to Hicks.“  
„Yes, sir.“ Bishop turned around. Slowly and still his gun ready, he walked back through the corridor. Apone continued the way they had taken. Far in front of them they could hear men shouting.   
Apone turned to John. „You stay here, understood?“ he hissed, then he hurried off. 

John licked his lips. Stay here? When Sherlock needed him? By now, there hadn’t been any report that a prisoner had been found. John decided he was very well capable to take care of himself. He slowly went on and turned around a corner into another smaller corridor. He saw two doors on both sides of the corridor. The first three rooms were empty, the doors damaged. The last door on the left was still intact and only left ajar. John took a deep breath. Then he pushed the door open and froze. 

A person lay on the floor. And John immediately knew, although this person was nothing more then a bloody figure and John wasn’t able to see the face: he had found Sherlock. John’s heart skipped a beat, he swallowed. Then he locked the safety on his gun and put it back into the holster. He stepped into the cell. John would have loved to rush to Sherlock. But he knew he would scare Sherlock to death, if he did. 

„Sherlock?“ he asked quietly and slowly approached his friend.  
„Sherlock - it’s me, John. Can you hear me?“ With every step John took he could see more and more of Sherlock’s injuries. Sherlock was curled into a ball. John could only see his back with every protruding rib and backbone. He was dirty and bleeding, his skin covered in gashes, small wounds, old and new bruises. John was familiar with different methods of torture. And he recognized many of them on Sherlock’s body: lashes and crops, cigarettes, dull blows, cuts. His eyes began to fill with tears, and he tried to blink them away.

„No more… please…“ Sherlock whimpered. John recognized his voice, but he sounded so small and defeated! Sherlock’s whole body began to tremble.   
„Oh god, Sherlock… It’s me. It’s over. Do you understand?“ John had finally reached Sherlock.  
„Don’t be scared. Help is here. We’ll get you out of here. Okay?“ John slowly went around his friend and froze in shock. He was barely able to see Sherlock’s face. His hair was long, matted and greasy and covered a good part of his face.  
„Please don’t…“ Sherlock whispered again, „Please…“

John could barely hear Sherlock’s words, he was too shocked. At first he had mistaken the round belly Sherlock was shielding with his arms for a famine edema. But then the smell hit him through the stench of blood, feces and every form of bodily odours - the smell of pregnant Omega. John had to fight a bout of sickness. Not only because of the stench. But because of the knowledge what Sherlock had endured throughout the last weeks and months. But finally he pulled himself together. He knelt down next to his friend. 

„Sherlock - don’t be scared, okay? It’s me. John. Your friend John Watson.“ He reached out his hand to carefully wipe the matted strands of hair from Sherlock’s face. Amidst all the bruises and swellings, the old and fresh blood on his face, were Sherlock’s eyes like two aquamarine lakes that looked up at him.   
„John? Are you a dream?“ Sherlock whispered through his swollen lips.   
„No, I’m real. I’m here. Nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore.“  
„John…“ Sherlock was panting. There were deep dark circles around his eyes, his cheek bones much too sharp. 

„My god, I’m so sorry…“ John whispered. He put his fingertips to Sherlock’s carotid artery. His pulse was weak and much too fast. Sherlock made a sound John identified a second later as scared.   
„Nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore. Do you think you can get up?“  
Sherlock slowly shook his head. He let go of his belly now and tried to lift himself up on trembling arms. He tried to shift closer to John. John understood.  
„Do you want me to hug you?“  
Sherlock didn’t respond, but John decided to give it a try. He took off his jacket and put it beside him. Then he slid closer to Sherlock, not sure how his friend would react. He sat down close. He gently put his arms around Sherlock and carefully pulled him closer. Sherlock pressed his face to Johns belly and began to sob.

„I’m here. I’ll take care of you. Nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore. An ambulance is on the way. We’ll get you out of here.“ John put his jacket around Sherlock’s bare shoulders. Very gently he let his hands roam over the matted hair and his bony back he could feel beneath the jacket. He was close to tears himself. But that wouldn’t help any of them, so he blinked his tears away. 

John heard footsteps approaching, then the door was pushed open.  
„Dr. Watson?“ Captain Apone looked into the room.   
„Yes, I’ve found him. Please give us a moment before one of your men comes in. We really need an ambulance.“  
„Okay, doc.“ Apone left again. He hadn’t cared much about Sherlock’s wellbeing. John Watson was a doctor, after all. He would know what to do. John looked down onto Sherlock.  
„We’ll get you out of here. But I have to let go for a second. You’re naked. I don’t want anybody to see you like that. Let me get my jumper around your waist, okay?“  
Sherlock managed a tentative nod.   
„Good. Can you let go off me for a moment?“  
Sherlock sniffed and let out a small sob, but he loosened his grip and pulled away from John’s body. John took off his jumper.   
„I’ll help you sit up. Can you manage that?“  
Sherlock nodded again. John helped him sit up. Sherlock was trembling all over. He took hold of John’s shoulders, while John put the jumper around Sherlock’s waist. He adjusted the jumper under Sherlock’s baby bump, then he tied the sleeves of the jumper together over one protruding hip bone. Sherlock was thin enough that the main part of the jumper would cover his bottom and his genitals.   
„Should be okay. We’ll get you covered as soon as possible. The ambulance will be here, soon.“  
John pulled Sherlock back into his arms, and Sherlock clung to him with all the strength he had left.   
„I’m so sorry…“ Johns whispered. „I wish we had found you earlier.“

Suddenly there were voices and footsteps outside the cell.  
„Doc?“ The door was opened again. Major Pine entered the room.  
„Dear lord… how is he?“  
„Not good. Is everything safe?“  
„Yes. Ambulance is on the way, but I’m sure it won’t take long.“  
„We have to get him out. Do you have some blankets, major?“  
„In our van.“  
„Okay. Help me, please.“

Major Pine shouldered his rifle, before he came closer. He knelt down next to John and Sherlock.  
„Mr. Holmes - my name is major Pine. Your brother Mycroft has sent me. You’re safe, now,“ he said calmly. Sherlock was shaking. He was clinging to John with both arms. He didn’t look at the major.  
„Sherlock - can the major carry you out of here? I’m not sure if I can manage with my shoulder. And I don’t want to drop you. Trust me. Nobody’s gonna hurt you, and I am by your side. You can hold my hand, if you want to.“  
Sherlock shook his head. John’s presence was all he needed and wanted: the familiar scent of his best friend would give him support. John sighed.   
„Sherlock… let the major carry you. We just want to get out of here as quickly as possible.“  
Sherlock finally lifted his head and took a look at major Pine, but trembled even more: Pine was an Alpha. Sherlock shook his head. John sighed.  
„Okay. But maybe the major can help us a bit? Would that be alright?“  
Because Sherlock didn’t refuse, John took that as a yes.   
„You have to let go for a moment, yeah? Can you let go, Sherlock?“

Tentatively Sherlock loosened his grip. John knelt and put one arm under Sherlock’s knees, the other around his shoulders. He looked up to major Pine.  
„Can you help me a bit?“  
„Sure, doc.“ The major helped John to stand up.   
„Are you sure you can manage that?“ the major asked. Sherlock put both arms around John’s neck and pressed his nose into the crook of John’s neck.  
„I hope so. Sherlock, I’ll carry you out now. Don’t be scared. I won’t let anyone touch you.“  
Sherlock remained silent. He just snuggled close to John’s shoulder. His many injuries must have caused him pain, but he seemed determined not to let go of John. John followed major Pine all the way back through the building. John heard a shot and flinched. Sherlock whimpered. Major Pine took his walkie talkie.

„Hicks - what’s going on? Over.“  
The voice coming through the walkie talkie was distorted. „Everything under control, sir. Two more men in ambush. Over.“  
„Somebody hurt? Over.“  
„None of us. Everything safe and secured. All in all 14 men. Four wounded, one dead. Over.“  
„Good work. We’re on our way back. Over and out.“  
Major Pine put the walkie talkie away. „Don’t worry, doc. We’ll have you both out of here in no time.“

John didn’t answer. He already felt a cramp in his shoulder, but followed major Pine out of the building. He breathed a sigh of relief, even if the ambulance still wasn’t here. He carried Sherlock through the thicket to the military van. Two more men from the team joined them. They kept an eye on the surroundings - just in case. John was sweating by now. Sherlock may be only skin and bones, but he was still heavy. When they arrived at the van John was breathing heavily. The forest was less dense, and a little road had let them here. The major opened the backdoor of the van. He climbed onto the platform and came back with two blankets. He spread one of them onto the platform.  
„Do you want to lay him down, doc?“  
„Um…“ John was unsure what to do. He wouldn’t be able to climb into the van with Sherlock in his arms. He took a step closer. 

„Sherlock - here is the van we came in. I’ll put you down onto the platform, alright?“  
Johns arms were shaking, when he lifted Sherlock a little and then gently lowered him onto the blanket. Major Pine immediately covered him with the other blanket. Then John took major Pine’s helping hand and sat down next to Sherlock. He carefully pulled him close, and Sherlock nestled into his warmth, ignoring all his injuries. John’s presence helped him to endure the pain.  
„Major? The ambulance is here.“ One of the soldiers pointed the barrel of his gun into the direction from which they had arrived. John sighed. Thank god. 

Sherlock’s baby bump seemed like a little mountain under the white sheet he was covered with. Electrodes were attached to Sherlock’s chest, and the beeping of an ecg filled the ambulance. John gently pulled the sheet up to Sherlock’s chin. Sherlock was breathing much too fast, his heart was racing, and he tried to see everything what was happening. His whole body was still shaking and he clutched John’s hand. John saw where long needles must have penetrated the beds of Sherlock’s nails. Dark bruises had formed under most of the nails. It must have hurt the way Sherlock gripped John’s hand. But Sherlock didn’t give any sign of pain. John asked himself again how Sherlock had been able to endure all that in his state.

„He is dehydrated. I can’t find a peripheral vein. I have to take the jugular. He immediately needs fluid,“ the doctor said, holding a cannula in his hand while examining Sherlock’s arm. Dr. Flannery was a member of MI 6 and had accompanied the mission. One of major Pine’s men was waiting to assist him. Mycroft had somehow arranged for the ambulance, Lieutenant Bishop would be driving it.   
Dr. Flannery loosened the tourniquet around Sherlock’s bicep and turned towards the neck. John made room for him.   
„Sherlock - we have to start an IV, and we have to attach it to your neck. Please don’t move now.“  
Sherlock flinched when the needle pierced his skin. Dr. Flannery directly started the IV.   
„Okay. Time to go,“ he said. Bishop started the engine. John took a seat next to Sherlock. An oxygen mask covered Sherlocks mouth and nose. He was obviously fighting to stay awake.   
„John…“ His voice was muffled by the mask.   
„I’m here. We’ll help you. I won’t leave you.“ Johns thumb gently caressed the back of Sherlock’s hand. „Promise. I’ll keep an eye on you. Nobody will hurt you anymore. Neither you, nor your baby.“

John looked back down to Sherlock’s belly. Of course John had known Sherlock was an Omega. He had seen the scars of the hormonal implants, and he knew the special shower gels and after shaves Sherlock had always used to cover the rest of his Omega smell. He had always succeeded. And it had never been discussed between them. Because just like John had known, that Sherlock had decided against his second gender, Sherlock had known that John was an empty Omega. They had accepted each other from the start, not questioning anything about that. It had rather been a very important part of their friendship. Even the fact that Sherlock had never wanted to have children hadn’t been brought up by John. Everybody had to find his place in the world on his own. 

Of course Sherlock had known that children had been something John had wished for himself. But John had never tried to give Sherlock a guilty conscience or even change his mind. And now… now Sherlock was going to have what he never wanted and John would never have. This baby was unwanted, conceived through pain and violence. And that was something that was painful for John. Every look at the child, once it was born, would remind Sherlock of everything he’d had to endure. But if he at least felt a little like an Omega, maybe he would be able to overcome this. If he went for help. Should he ask John for help, John would be more than willing to help him. 

Because Sherlock was so much more to him than just a flatmate and friend. He was John’s best friend, the most important person in his life. John had already asked himself, what Sherlock really was to him, if he really was just his best friend. Or if there was more to their friendship. Was it normal that John so often realized how beautiful Sherlock was? Was it just John’s imagination or did Sherlock really drop his facade of a self proclaimed sociopath to show more and more of his real self? At the very beginning of their friendship Sherlock had denied to have or need friends. But that wasn’t entirely true. Otherwise he would never have gotten so close to John. And he would never have jumped off the roof of St.-Bart’s. 

After Mycroft had explained to John why Sherlock had done this, it had caused John even more tears. And had shed a new light onto their friendship. Such a friendship was something very special. Such a deep trust between them was very special, too. John knew that. And wanted to be there for Sherlock in every possible way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really so, so happy that this story has found some readers! Thanks to everyone who left kudos and to everyone who took some time to write a comment. Thank you! 
> 
> By the way - I didn't mention it before. But I think I could use a beta reader. I would feel much more confident, if I had someone to check my story for mistakes. Especially grammar. If someone is interested, I would be very grateful.

Finally they arrived in the nearest town. There was a hospital in Stragari, and they were already expected. Surely Mycroft Holmes must have pulled some strings. Sherlock was brought into an examination room. Of course John stayed at his side. Sherlock hadn’t let go off John’s hand through the entire ride to the hospital. 

In the examination room Sherlock was carefully lifted onto an exam table. Sherlock cried out in pain. John wanted to make room for the other doctors. A clinician and the emergency team were present to assist Dr. Flannery. But Sherlock’s grip onto John’s hand was as tight as he could manage in his weak state, and it must have been painful. So John stayed at his side. Someone pushed a stool into John’s direction for him to sit next to his friend. Sherlock was provided with a new ecg, a new IV was attached. Dr. Flannery came to top end of the exam table.

„Mr. Holmes - please let me introduce myself, first. I’m Dr. Flannery. Your brother Mycroft choose me personally for your treatment. I would like to examine you, if you allow it.“ Dr. Flannery smiled reassuringly. Sherlock looked up to John. He shook his head.   
„Mr. Holmes, your brother is really worried about you. I just want to take a look at you. Dr. Watson can stay with you the whole time. I promise, I won’t do anything without your consent.“  
John noticed Sherlock’s rapid breathing. He leaned closer to his friend. 

„Sherlock - the doctor is right. I’ll stay right here. I’ll watch everything they do. Okay? But we have to know how badly you are hurt. And see how your baby is doing. You want your baby to be fine. So please let the doctor do his work.“  
Two tears ran from the corners of Sherlock’s eyes. Very gently John wiped them away.   
„Don’t be scared,“ he whispered. Finally Sherlock closed his eyes, and John nodded to Dr. Flannery. The doctor nodded back. John stayed at the top end of the exam table close to Sherlock’s head. He put a hand onto Sherlock’s cheek to show him, that he was there. John tried not to look, when Dr. Flannery pulled the sheet from Sherlock’s chest to take a first look at his patient. 

Sherlock flinched with every touch. No matter how careful Dr. Flannery was: the many minor and major injuries inflicted pain with every little touch. Eventually Sherlock was shivering uncontrollably. He groaned in pain, and tears escaped his closed eyes. John intervened.   
„Dr. Flannery - please give him a moment,“ he begged. Dr. Flannery pulled the sheet up again.   
„May I have a word with you, Dr. Watson?“ he asked. John hesitated. He caressed Sherlock’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. „Sherlock - I’ll be right back. Let me talk to your doctor for a moment how to help you. Can you manage that?“  
Sherlock opened his eyes. There were still tears in them. John swallowed. He had never seen Sherlock this vulnerable and helpless. It hurt him so much to see him like that.   
„Two minutes. Okay? You can manage. I promise I’ll be right back.“  
It took a moment, but then Sherlock nodded wearily. John got up und followed Dr. Flannery out of the room.

„This is futile, Dr. Watson. He has so many injuries, you’ve seen them yourself. I also want to x-ray his left shoulder and chest as well as the right knee. That knee doesn’t look good, either. But he won’t endure this without anesthesia. He is traumatized. It would do him no good, if we examine and treat his injuries without anesthesia.“  
„And the child?“ John asked.   
„We’ll give propofol. It won’t harm the child. It will let him sleep, but we can tend to his wounds without putting him under great stress and examine him thoroughly. The stress would be too much for him and the child. We can also make an ultrasound and see how the baby’s doing while he sleeps. Since the child was conceived under… unfortunate circumstances it could upset him to have to face a full ultrasound. You know him better, Dr. Watson. What do you think?“  
John didn’t have to think long. „Do it. But I’ll stay with him.“  
„That’s fine. Even if he is asleep he will still feel your presence.“

John stayed with Sherlock for whole time when he was examined and treated. The propofol put him to sleep in no time. The x-rays showed no bad injuries. Two partially fractured ribs and a fracture of one of his jawbones were already healing. A team of doctors and nurses washed Sherlock as good as possible, cleaned, treated and dressed the wounds. Some of them were infected, some needed stitches. John didn’t pay much attention to the conversation, held in a mix of Serbian and English. He just watched intently what was done to Sherlock’s body. John didn’t like the fact that his unconscious friend was at the doctors’ mercy. But it was the only way to spare him unnecessary pain and stress. 

Sherlock’s hair was too matted to rescue any of it. So John himself took some scissors and cut it to a very short crop. He even tried to cut the thin, stringy beard. As an Omega Sherlock wouldn’t grow much of a beard, but this little amount of facial hair had been growing for months now. Finally a female doctor arrived, whose field was Omega obstetrics, for a thorough examination. John was still at Sherlock’s side, holding his hand. He hoped Sherlock would feel his presence, even if he was asleep. Of course the doctor diagnosed the many rapes that had taken place. But lucky enough she didn’t expect any lasting damage or problems for the progress of the pregnancy. Even a regular birth should be possible. 

Hearing this was a relief for John, even if he had no idea how Sherlock would react when he recovered from his torture. In the end the obstetrician did a full ultrasound, and for the first time John saw Sherlock’s offspring. It was an indescribable experience, though he was shocked by what he saw. Sherlock pregnant - this didn’t fit. But it was a fact. And it showed John all the more that Sherlock was a human being after all. 

Finally Sherlock was moved to a single room. He would still be sleeping a little longer. So John took the opportunity to call Mycroft. One of the nurses spoke English very well. She offered him to use their tea kitchen for his phone call. John thanked her and accepted her offer gladly. Together with the cup of tea she left for him on the table with a smile. 

„Mycroft - it’s John. Did someone inform you already?“  
„The only thing I know is, that Sherlock was taken to a hospital. Major Pine gave me a brief record of the mission. How is my brother now?“  
John rubbed his forehead. „He is malnourished, dehydrated and he was systematically tortured. But none of his injuries are dangerous, they will heal without lasting damage. But we can’t tell now how all of this has affected his mind.“  
„My brother has gone through of lot in his life and survived.“  
„This is different. It’s not his injuries. Sherlock is pregnant.“  
„What?!“  
„You should see him… dear lord, he went through hell!“  
„Which month of gestation?“  
„Which month… I have no idea! He was just examined. I’ll talk to the doctors later. Why do you want to now which month - no.“ John realized in the same moment why Mycroft had asked this question.

„No. We’re certainly not talking about an abortion. Not here, not now, and bloody not without involving Sherlock,“ John said angrily.   
„My brother had his reasons to suppress his cycles and use an implant for nearly 20 years. You can’t honestly think he would give birth to the child of one his rapists?“  
„Maybe not. But that is alone Sherlock’s decision to make. Only he can decide. And he is much to weak at the moment. He needs to rest and heal before he can face such a decision.“  
„Dr. Watson - surely you know that my brother is in no way capable to raise children.“  
„But it’s his body. And he alone gets to decide what’s going to happen. Right now all he has to do is to rest and regain his strength. And I have to go back to him. I don’t want him to wake up and I’m not there.“  
Mycroft sighed. „Well, I have to trust you. Keep me informed.“  
„Of course.“ John ended the call and put his phone into his pocket. He rubbed both hands over his face. He didn’t know either, how Sherlock would be capable of rising children. But now Sherlock’s recovery was the most important. John took another deep breath before returning to Sherlock’s room.

Sherlock woke half an hour later. He moaned, started to move and automatically tried to hide and make himself small. He was breathing rapidly and looked around slightly panicked. John moved his chair closer to Sherlock’s bed and laid a hand on his arm to calm him - and to prevent Sherlock from ripping his IV out, that had now been placed into the back of his hand.   
„Shh… Sherlock, don’t panic. You’re safe. You’re in hospital. I’m with you. Do you understand?“  
„John?“ Sherlock asked, his voice rough. He turned to John.   
„Yes. I’m here.“  
„John…“  
„Don’t be scared. Moran and his people are all under arrest. Mycroft’s going to make sure none of them will ever be set free again and to find the last remnants of Moriarty’s network. Don’t worry.“

John saw Sherlock relaxing. He moved close to the bed, so they could face each other. He carefully took Sherlock’s hand again.   
„Do you remember how we got you out?“ John asked.  
Sherlock hesitated, but then he nodded. He licked his chapped lips.  
„Do you want to drink something?“   
Sherlock nodded again. John gently caressed Sherlock’s hand before placing Sherlock’s hand on the bed. He filled a glass with water from a bottle from the nightstand.   
„I’m gonna help you a bit, okay?“ John elevated the top end of the bed, using a remote control. 

Sherlock’s room was in a private ward of the hospital, so he had a little more space and a nicer room with more luxury than the other patients. Including an electrical bed. John stopped, when Sherlock groaned quietly and uncurled a litte from his nearly fetal position. John took the glass and helped Sherlock to sit up. When he offered him the glass Sherlock made no attempts to take it. So John held it to his lips, and Sherlock emptied with only a few desperate gulps. 

„More?“ John asked.   
Sherlock nodded. The clean and clear water was a relief after the stale and sometimes dirty water he had been given in the last weeks and months. John smiled at him and helped him with another glass.   
„That’s enough for the moment. I don’t want you to be sick.“ John lowered the top end of Sherlock’s bed. „The IV should provide you with enough fluids. Are you in pain?“

Sherlock made a quick inventory of his body. Actually he felt less pain then in the previous weeks, so he shook his head.   
„Good. So the pain medication seems to be sufficient. We can only use paracetamol and ibuprofen, I’m afraid.“  
Sherlock rested his head on the pillow. How good this felt… clean bedclothes, a mattress, a light but soft and warm duvet. Sherlock carefully pulled on the duvet. John helped him to pull it up to his chin.   
„Are you warm enough?“

Sherlock swallowed. He felt sudden tears burning in his eyes. Because he finally realized: he was really safe now. He was safe, and John was with him, Moran was arrested. Oh, but for which price… Sherlock’s hands fisted the duvet despite his aching fingers. This price was high. Too high?

John sah the emotions flickering over Sherlock’s face, threatening to overwhelm him. He took Sherlock’s hand again. „Hey… You’ll recover. I am so glad you’re still here. That you’re alive. I thought I had lost you…“  
It was like Sherlock was struck by lightning: John had believed him dead! How was it possible that he was sitting next to his bed?  
„How… why are you here?“ Sherlock asked hesitantly, his voice low and hoarse and unusually weak. 

„Mycroft told me the truth after he had lost contact to you. He moved heaven and earth to find you. But it was difficult. Mycroft would have come himself, but in the end he decided to control and supervise the mission from London.“  
Sherlock scoffed. „Maybe he should have hurried a little more.“ He closed his eyes, but gently squeezed John’s hand.   
„I’m glad, you’re here,“ he whispered.  
„And I am glad I could be with you when you were found. Rest now. Sleep. I’ll stay right here.“

The next time Sherlock woke, John was still sitting in his chair next to Sherlock’s bed. He immediately sat up, when he heard Sherlock whimper and his breathing speed up.  
„Sherlock?“  
John bend forward to take Sherlock’s hand, when Sherlock cried out and lifted his hands to defend himself.   
„Sherlock! It’s just a dream!“ John put both hands on Sherlock’s arms, and with a shout Sherlock opened his eyes. He barely saw the figure above him and instinctively tried to fight and get away from John. But he was in fact to weak to help himself against a possible assailant.   
„Please no! I can’t anymore!“ He panted, followed by words in Serbian. John’s heart raced.   
„No, Sherlock, it’s me, John! Calm down. It’s just me. Shh… nobody’s going to hurt you.“ John let go off Sherlock, and Sherlock backed off, crossing his arms over his baby bump.  
„Oh god, I’m sorry… I didn’t want to scare you. You’re in hospital, Sherlock. Do you remember?“

Sherlock blinked. He was breathing rapidly, but at least John’s words seemed to have reached him.   
„Nobody will hurt you anymore. It’s just me.“  
„John?“  
John breathed. Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, his gaze had cleared. 

A nurse entered the room.   
„What happened?“ she asked, her Serbian accent heavy.   
„Mr. Holmes had a bad dream,“ John explained. The nurse came closer.   
„Can I do something for you, Mr. Holmes?“  
Sherlock shook his head. He lowered his arms from his belly and rested them on top of the duvet. The nurse checked the IV.   
„If you need something or the IV needs to be changed just ring.“ She turned to John. „Do you need anything?“  
„No. Thanks. We’re fine here.“  
She nodded and left. Not before she had closed the door, Sherlock sank back into his pillow. He pulled a face, because it hurt.   
„Something to drink?“ John offered. When Sherlock nodded, John helped him again. Sherlock had already calmed down. He turned onto his side to take some weight from his injured back. 

„What date is it?“ Sherlock asked.  
„July 6th,“, John answered truthfully.   
Sherlock stared into space for a moment.   
„Five months…“ he whispered, his lips felt numb. The day he had been captured had really been about five months ago…  
„How did you find me?“  
„You vanished from Mycroft’s radar early February. He activated every available agent to look for you. But it wasn’t a matter of national importance, so it wasn’t enough by far. We got a vital tip three weeks ago. Mycroft called in every favor he could call in. I am sure he got into some trouble, but in the end he could send a complete MI 6 team and Dr. Flannery to search you.“  
„And you…“  
John smiled a little. „Yes, and me. Do you really think I wouldn’t have moved heaven and earth, too, to be with you?“  
Sherlock closed his eyes again. It only took a moment, until John realized tears dwelling from his eyes and running down his cheeks. John didn’t now what to do. So he just put his hand on Sherlock’s forearm. Sherlock flinched, but didn’t pull away. 

„And I’ll stay with you. As long as you want me to.“  
Sherlock sniffed, but didn’t say anything. John didn’t want to pressure him. Instead he just wanted Sherlock to go back to sleep. Sleep was the best for him now. So he just remained where he was. Sherlock’s tears finally ran dry. The quick movements beneath his closed eyelids and his steady breathing told John that Sherlock had fallen asleep again. John rubbed a hand over his forehead. What a nightmare…


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it takes me so long to update the story. But I promise the story will be a longer one. So thanks for your comments and kudos, I love every single one!

Sherlock was fast asleep. He didn’t wake, even when the nurse came in to change his IV. John arranged himself in his chair until he was able to find some much needed sleep. Sherlock’s voice woke him eventually. 

„John…“  
John opened his eyes. He sat up and felt (and heard) something crack in his neck and shoulder. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at Sherlock. He could see the early morning light, as he looked out of the window.  
„You could sleep for a few hours. That’s good,“ John smiled. „How are you feeling?“  
„I… I have to go to the loo.“  
„Do you just have to pee, or -“  
„Just. That.“ Sherlock blushed a little.  
„I can call the nurse to bring you a bed-pan.“  
„I would rather go to the bathroom.“  
John hesitated. „You’re not going to make it on your own.“  
„Then help me,“ Sherlock begged. John considered this for a moment. He understood Sherlock’s request for some privacy, and it would be good for him. Sherlock had always been a little quirky in some aspects of his life. He hated to accept help from others. And he didn’t want to be touched by strangers unless it was absolutely necessary. John nodded with a defeated sigh. 

„Okay. Just let me take off the IV for the moment.“  
John stopped the IV. He removed the line and put a little cap onto the system in Sherlock’s hand. Then he pulled the duvet from Sherlock’s body. Sherlock only wore a hospital gown that was open in the back, fastened with two tape ties. 

„Slowly. Let your circulation get used to sitting up,“ John warned him. He helped Sherlock to sit up and move his legs to the edge of the bed. Sherlock moaned in pain. Everything hurt - no matter if pain medication or not. Sherlock tried to breathe evenly. The barely healed broken ribs made deep breaths impossible. John stood next to him, one hand only lightly resting on his shoulder, trying not to hurt him.

„Take your time. There’s no rush,“ John reminded his friend and just waited. Sherlock nodded after a minute.   
„Okay. Let’s try. Can you put an arm around me?“  
„Yes.“ Sherlock slid closer to the edge of the mattress, until he could place his feet on the ground. He didn’t have any shoes, and the cold linoleum made him flinch. John could feel it and scolded himself for forgetting this fact. 

„Are you sure you can manage this?“ John asked. Sherlock nodded again. He slowly put weight onto his feet and put an arm around John’s shoulder. The hight difference between him and John made it easier for him to let John support most his weight. Sherlock straightened his legs. He groaned when his injured knee began to hurt. It was swollen and seemed to pulse. Sherlock made a first tentative step. John felt him trembling.  
„That was a lousy idea. Let me get a nurse.“  
„No. I want to make it,“, Sherlock answered. John surrendered. He just hoped Sherlock would’t collapse on his way to the bathroom. It was only a couple of steps to the bathroom, but John was more than relieved when they reached it. John helped Sherlock into the bathroom and to the toilet.

„Sit down. And don’t argue with me“, he ordered with a smile. Sherlock obeyed without any argument, because he had of course realized how much this little trip to the bathroom had already tired him. Why the hell was he so weak? Even during his imprisonment he hadn’t felt this terribly weak. But it was only logical: every time someone had approached him, the adrenaline had agitated him and mobilized unexpected strength. But at this very moment Sherlock felt helpless like a small child.

„I’ll wait outside. Don’t try to get up on your own,“ John said and left the bathroom. He left the door ajar and waited for Sherlock to call him.  
„John…“   
„Finished? I’m coming in.“  
When John entered the bathroom, Sherlock looked up at him. He was sweating.   
„He… are you alright?“  
„I… I’m not sure if I can make it back to bed…“ Sherlock admitted. He lowered his head. John nodded.   
„No problem. Just wait for me. I’ll go fetch a wheelchair. I’ll be right back. Okay?“  
„Okay.“

John hurried out. He had seen wheelchairs in an alcove at the end of the ward’s corridor. He directly went to fetch one without even bothering to ask one of the nurses of the night shift. He pushed it to Sherlock’s bathroom and next to the toilet, where Sherlock was still sitting. His face was deathly pale.  
„This will make it easier.“ John arrested the breaks, then he helped Sherlock up and into the wheelchair. Sherlock was sweating badly by now.

„That was a really bloody stupid idea. Why can I never tell you no?“ John grumbled, while he pushed Sherlock back to his bed.   
„Because you’re not as clever as I am.“  
„At least you can still make bad jokes. We keep this stupid idea to ourselves, understood?“  
Sherlock didn’t answer. John helped him back to bed. After he had attached the IV again, both took a relieved breath. John put the wheelchair aside, before he sank back onto his chair. 

„Are you alright?“ he asked.  
„Yes. Exhausted,“ Sherlock admitted. His breathing was still a little laboured.   
„Any pain? Shall I go and get you something?“  
Sherlock considered this offer for a moment, but then shook his head. He closed his eyes. The tiredness was overcoming him again. John leaned back in his chair. Surely it was for the best if Sherlock could get some more sleep.

A nurse came in an hour later.   
„Good morning. I’m nurse Katja,“ she introduced herself cheerily. John turned around, when the light was switched on and Sherlock woke from his sleep with a pained sound. The sudden movement caused him pain, and he gasped for air. He immediately began to hyperventilate and started to tremble. John leapt to his feet. 

„Damn, do you have to scare him like that! You know perfectly well why he’s here!“ John snapped and glared at her. Katja took a step back, while John bend over Sherlock’s bed.   
„Sherlock - don’t be scared, everything’s fine. I’m here. I’ll take care. Breathe slowly, I don’t want you to pass out.“ John sat down on the edge of the bed. He put one hand on Sherlock’s cheek. 

„Look at me. I am here. I am with you.“  
Sherlock’s eyes were open wide, but now his gaze focussed on John, and he reacted.   
„Very good. Getting better?“  
Sherlock’s breathing slowed down, he nodded. John’s thumb gently caressed Sherlock’s cheekbone, careful not to hurt him. Sherlock’s face was swollen from all the blows he had had to take before his rescue. John turned back to the nurse who had retreated back to the door. 

„Next time a little more tact, yes?“ He demanded. The nurse nodded.   
„I’m sorry, Mr. Holmes. I… may I take your temperature?“  
Sherlock nodded and pulled back from John’s gentle hand. John made room for the nurse to work. She took Sherlock’s pulse and temperature and changed his IV. 

„Okay. I’ll bring you breakfast.“ She left the room.  
Sherlock took a deep breath.   
„I hate hospitals…“, he murmured.  
John couldn’t help but smile. That sounded a lot more like Sherlock.  
„You’re doing fine so far.“  
Sherlock kept silent for a moment before he asked: „Are you going to sleep in this chair every night?“  
John shrugged. „I’m okay. As long as you need me, I’m here.“  
A little smile curled Sherlock’s lips. „You have to get some good night’s sleep. Don’t you have a hotel room?“  
„Sure. But what would I do in a hotel when you are here?“  
„Unreasonable.“ 

But of course Sherlock was more than glad to have John at his side. John’s presence had helped him through every anxiety attack he had faced so far. What if it happened again and John wasn’t there? Sherlock preferred not to think about such a scenario. Besides - what should happen to him now that he was in hospital? He was safe. However there was this little nagging voice in his head that made him ask: „What happened… to Moran and his people?“

„Mycroft’s team arrested everyone who was there. One got shot. He’s dead. No loss, if you ask me. We were lucky Moran was there, too. One problem less to solve.“  
Sherlock nodded. This was a little relief.   
„You can leave everything else up to Mycroft and his people. You did more than enough, Sherlock. You only have to recover now.“

There was a knock at the door, and nurse Katja returned with a breakfast tray in her hands.   
„Mr. Holmes - do you want tea for breakfast?“ She left the tray on the side table next to Sherlock’s bed.   
Sherlock’s eyes lit up. Tea sounded wonderful, although he doubted that it was possible to get a good tea here in Serbia. But he nodded. Of course he was starving for a cup of tea. The nurse smiled and went to get his tea. John lifted the cover off Sherlock’s breakfast tray. He found bread, butter, jam and yoghurt.   
„Do you think you can eat something? Shall I make you a bread and butter with some jam?“

Sherlock stared at his breakfast. He surely had never expected such a simple breakfast to be that fascinating. Since Sherlock didn’t say anything, John prepared some bread for him. He cut the slice in half and handed one to Sherlock.   
„There you are. Give it a try.“  
Sherlock bit off a small corner. He had to close his eyes, completely overwhelmed. The combination of butter and jam was nearly to much for him. He hadn’t tasted something like that in months. John saw different emotions openly flicker over Sherlock’s face. He just hoped that Sherlock’s stomach wouldn’t revolt. On the other hand he badly needed something to eat. Some bread and jam shouldn’t be to much for him. He slowly ate his bread and took little sips of his tea in between bites. Until he realized John didn’t eat anything. 

„Don’t you want something?“  
„I’ll eat what you leave. Do you want another slice?“  
Sherlock hesitated. But he himself didn’t trust his stomach enough, and in fact he felt already full. He shook his head.  
„Half a yoghurt, maybe?“ John already removed the lid. Sherlock preferred to take another sip of his tea. In the end John ate the rest of Sherlock’s breakfast. He sure as hell was more than glad Sherlock had eaten at all.

„When can I go home?“ Sherlock asked when he had finished his tea. In fact he sounded much more like himself again. This question was typically Sherlock, and John couldn’t suppress a smile.   
„I can go get the doctor who examined and treated you, if you like to talk to him.“  
„Just tell me everything I need to know.“

John took a deep breath. „Whatever you want. When we found you I honestly feared for the worst. Thank god none of your injuries are dangerous. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here on a regular ward. You’re malnourished. That’s going to slow your recovery down. The doctors had to sedate you to examine you and treat your wounds. You were to weak to make it through treatment without sedation. And it was much faster this way. With a good treatment and some antibiotics the superficial wounds will heal fast. I have to admit that some of them will scar. But that’s nothing we can control. There is some fluid in your left shoulder, could be caused by a dislocation. Your right knee is badly swollen, but all anatomical structures are still intact. You’ll have to do physiotherapy until everything works properly again. Two ribs show signs of fractures, but are nearly healed. In your left cheekbone is a little fissure, but it will heal over time. And the pregnancy is intact. The babies are fine, they should have made it through sedation without any trouble. The propofol you were given is no problem. I’ve seen them when you had an ultrasound.“

John looked at John for some time, blinked, than looked down at his belly.   
„What do you mean? Babies?“ he finally asked. John saw the insecurity on his face.   
„Didn’t you suspect that? Your bump is not small. You’re expecting twins. They seem to be fine, though. The doctor couldn’t tell exactly how far gone you are. Can you roughly tell me when your last heat was?"  
Sherlock still looked at the baby bump beneath the duvet. Twins? Could life be any more cruel? One baby was bad enough, but two?

„Sherlock?“ John gently touched Sherlock’s arm.   
„I…“ Sherlock began, swallowed rising gastric acid and clasped a hand over his mouth. John saw, how Sherlock tried to suppress his retching. John grabbed a kidney dish from Sherlock’s bedside table just in time before Sherlock started to throw up.   
„It’s alright. Everything’s fine,“ John murmured. He waited, until Sherlock took a deep breath and pushed his hand with the dish away. He wiped his mouth with a tissue John offered to him.   
„No, it’s not…“ Sherlock rasped.   
John covered the sick with some tissues and put the dish down on the floor. 

„Sherlock… you knew, you are pregnant, didn’t you?“ John asked a little insecure.  
Sherlock swallowed. But then he nodded. John sighed. Sherlock had never wanted children, of course John knew that. But he couldn’t know what was going on in his best friend at the moment. What his opinion towards the pregnancy was. And on top the babies inside him were the children of the men who had raped him for months. John wasn’t sure if Sherlock would want to give birth to the children. And didn’t have any idea how to ask Sherlock about that. Maybe it was best to wait, until Sherlock himself brought the subject up. 

„I was… I had only one heat. They… they removed my implant the second day I was…“ His voice failed him. It was obvious how difficult it was for Sherlock to talk about his experiences. „I don’t now, how… how much time had passed until my heat started. You saw, where… where I…“  
John nodded. It was clear that Sherlock had lost track of time without any hints what time of day it was. There had only been artificial light in his cell. 

„Typically it takes between 10 to 30 days until the hormones have worn off and the body starts to take up his usual functions again. Depends on how long one had an implant.“   
Sherlock didn’t comment John’s explanation. It was proof that John, too, was feeling out of his depth. So he unconsciously tried to cover it with his medical explanations. They both fell silent for a moment, words failing them and unsure how to cope with the situation. Finally John cleared his throat. „Well… to get back to your first question… I can go and get Dr. Flannery. He can tell you what he thinks about a relocation to London. But you should stay in hospital for some more time to recover.“  
„I have my own doctor at home,“ Sherlock objected.   
„Nice try. But that’s to delicate for me. You’re pregnant.“  
His last words made Sherlock flinch.   
„Sherlock, please be sensible. I know how you hate being sick. But that’s to much of a responsibility for me to take alone.“  
„You treated me as a doctor many times before.“  
„But now are carrying two babies. That’s something completely different.“  
Sherlock swallowed another reply. Instead he said: „Then maybe it’s for the best if you go get this other doctor.“  
„Okay. Be right back.“ John got up and left Sherlock’s room. 

Sherlock pushed his hands under the duvet and placed them onto his baby bump. Twins… John’s words still vibrated within him. Sherlock grit his teeth. Oh god… He still had to process the shock caused by these news. Twins! Why didn’t he himself think of that? Because John was right, his belly was huge. But… how could he have guessed? He didn’t know anything about babies and pregnancies. 

He tried to calculate the weeks. He must be 17 oder 18 weeks pregnant already. Even Sherlock knew that a fetus so young had no chance to live outside the womb. But they were fully formed, tiny human beings. It was just that they had no right to be inside him. Sherlock couldn’t suppress a groan and felt a new bout of nausea. Twins… an unwanted pregnancy… raped and abused for months… 

Sherlock fought against the tears. All his feelings were suddenly spiraling down into chaos. Because he realized it now: he was safe. Nobody could hurt him anymore. Nobody would beat him, nearly drown him, threaten to kick his belly, to… No more aggression from outside, no more danger he was supposed to protect his offspring from - at all cost, because he was an Omega. And Omegas did everything to protect their offspring. But the danger was over. He would be back home in London in a few days. But what next? He would still be pregnant. What should he do? Sherlock squinted his eyes. That was too much for him. Far too much. 

The door to his room was opened. Sherlock flinched and turned to the door. John came in, followed by Dr. Flannery. Sherlock pulled his hands from under the duvet and placed them next to him. He looked up at Dr. Flannery, who now approached his bed. 

„Mr. Holmes - do you remember me? Dr. Flannery. Good morning.“ The doctor took a seat next to Sherlock’s bed.   
„Dr. Watson already told you that we examined you and about the results. Are you in pain?“  
Sherlock didn’t respond to the question. Instead he immediately made clear, what he wanted: „I want to back to London.“  
„I understand. And I already discussed this with the colleagues here. We have no objections against a quick relocation to England. But I strongly recommend some more time in hospital. Dr. Watson is in contact with your brother. I’m sure the relocation to London can be arranged quickly.“  
Sherlock nodded. That’s what he had wanted to hear, the doctor had carried out his duty and could be dismissed.   
„Is there anything you want to ask?“  
„Get an armchair or something like that for John. If he has to spend another night on this chair he’ll become a nursing case,“ Sherlock grumbled. Dr. Flannery looked to John. John lifted his hands in defeat. But then Dr. Flannery smiled.   
„I think that can be easily arranged. Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Holmes?“  
„I’m tired…“ Sherlock mumbled. He pulled his duvet higher and closed his eyes to make his point clear. Dr. Flanney was stunned. Had that been all?

John sighed. „Yes… thank you for your time, Dr. Flannery. I’d thought Mr. Holmes would want more information from you. I’ll talk to his brother and inform you. When should the dressings be changed?“  
Dr. Flannery got up. „Tomorrow. I’ll see you again before that. Maybe we should change the dressings in another sedation. But we’ll decide about that together. You know where to find me, Dr. Watson.“ Dr. Flannery left Sherlock’s room. 

„The man just does his work, Sherlock.“ John took his place next to Sherlock’s bed again.   
„Call Mycroft. I want to go home.“  
„Don’t you want to talk to him? I’m sure he would be glad to hear your voice. He was really worried.“  
„No. Let’s spare that until we’re home in London. He can annoy me then.“  
John sighed. „You want me to call him now?“  
„The sooner the better.“  
John took his mobile. While John talked to Mycroft, Sherlock seemed to be completely uninterested in the conversation and looked up at the ceiling.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the delay! But work and life have been very busy for me the last days, and translating is taking some time. I promise to do better!

„This is John Watson. Hello, Mycroft.“  
„How is my brother?“  
„He’s doing okay. He’s not severely injured and will recover. And you know him: He wants to be discharged and go home to London. How quickly can you arrange for that?“  
„What’s your medical opinion on a relocation?“  
„Dr. Flannery and the other colleagues here don’t object, and I agree with them. But we should arrange for a private transport, if possible.“  
„I’ll take care of that. I will inform you once everything is organized. Including Sherlock’s passport.“  
„Thank you. I’m sure it will be helpful for him to know he can leave the country, soon.“  
„I will be glad once he is safe back in the UK,“ Mycroft admitted. John was surprised how easily the older Holmes could admit this. But even Mycroft Holmes was still human.   
„So you will hurry to take us home.“  
„Of course. Give my best wishes to Sherlock please. Goodbye.“  
„Bye…“ 

John put his phone away. „Greetings from Mycroft, he hopes you get well, soon.“  
Sherlock didn’t respond. He just kept staring at the ceiling.   
„He is really worried, I’m sure.“  
„Serves him right. He should have gotten me out sooner.“ Sherlock tried to sound as neutral as possible, but of course John new better. He could guess how much Sherlock had longed for help from his brother. He didn’t want to imagine how Sherlock might have felt: waiting for help day in, day out. Every day he was let down again, until his hope slowly started to die and he asked himself if he would ever get out of this horror.

„He tried. He really tried, but the hints were scarce. We weren’t able to get any information for weeks.“  
„What use has a big brother in a position like Mycroft’s if he isn’t able to use that position?“  
„That’s unfair, Sherlock. Mycroft did everything in his might to find you.“  
„Then he didn’t try hard enough.“  
John sighed. It was obvious that Sherlock wasn’t thinking logical about his matter at the moment. But he preferred to say nothing. 

Sherlock had dozed off and woke again, when two male nurses carried an armchair into his room. John was pleasantly surprised and glad he could sleep a little more comfortable now. After all he was allowed to spend the nights with Sherlock. The next one to come in was a nurse who changed Sherlock’s IV and offered Sherlock to give him am sponge bath. The look Sherlock gave her was murderous and made her leave. It was John who repeated the offer: „Shall I give you a sponge bath? It wouldn’t be a problem.“  
„You can help me to the bathroom, and I’ll try myself. I have to go to the loo, anyway.“  
„But you take the wheelchair.“  
Sherlock tried a little smile. „Maybe it’s for the best.“

John helped Sherlock into the wheelchair and brought him to the bathroom. Soap, a flannel and towel were at hand.   
„I can go and ask for a razor, if you’d like. I’m sure they must have some. As well as a toothbrush. Do you want to…“ John pointed toward the toilet.   
Sherlock sighed. „Yes. Could you help me again?“  
„Sure.“

Just like the night before John left Sherlock alone for the task. When Sherlock was back in his wheelchair, John laid out the flannel and towel for him. „Let me see if I can get you the other stuff. I’ll be right back.“  
Sherlock nodded. John left the bathroom and Sherlock’s room. Sherlock turned on the tap and waited for the water to warm. It was wonderful to be able to just wash his hands. He inspected his blue fingernails and the assimilation of small and big abrasions, bruises and wounds that were scattering his hands and forearms. He had always thought of his body as not much more than a vessel, just transport, keeping his mind alive. The experience he had made during the last months proved the weakness of his body. And body and mind were inseparable - one couldn’t exist without the other. 

The mirror was too high for Sherlock to see his reflection. And he wasn’t sure he really wanted to see himself. Nevertheless he pushed himself up to standing, supporting himself on the edge of the sink.   
„Oh god…“ he whispered when he saw his own reflection for the first time in months. He could barely recognize himself. He was deathly pale, his face haggard and covered with the marks all the beatings had left on his face. There were bruises and swellings in every color. Some scars showed where his skin had broke and healed improperly. His cheeks and chin showed remnants of a beard. And his hair was cut extremely short, some patches nearly bald. Sherlock swallowed hard. He had never been a vain person. He had always known his face could be considered more weird than attractive. But he had always paid attention to his looks. To see himself like that now, was disturbing. 

The door to his room was opened again, John’s well known steps came close.   
„I even have toothpaste for you,“ John said and entered the bathroom. The same moment Sherlock sank back into his wheelchair.   
„Are you alright?“ John asked carefully.  
Sherlock nodded, but said nothing. He reached for the flannel and placed it under the water. But his still bruised and aching fingertips made it impossible for him to wring it out. After two attempts he angrily threw it into the sink.   
„Hey… do you want me to help?“ John offered.  
Sherlock hunched his shoulders. After a moment he ran his hands over the remnants of his dark curls.   
„Did you do that?“ he asked.  
„Um… yeah. I apologize for how it looks, but… your hair was totally matted. I had no choice. But it will grow back eventually.“

John reached for the wet flannel, wrung it out and handed it to Sherlock. Sherlock took it and carefully wiped over his face and neck, avoiding the fresh wounds. He handed the flannel back to John who washed it out and cleaned some spots on Sherlock’s face a second time. He was very gentle, trying not to hurt Sherlock.   
„More? Do you want to take off the gown?“  
Sherlock nodded, defeated by his own weakness and helplessness. He just hoped to gain his strength back, soon. John helped Sherlock out of the hospital gown and started to clean his upper body. Sherlock tried to help by lifting his arms. When John reached Sherlock’s baby bump, he hesitated and searched Sherlock’s gaze. Sherlock looked up, their gazes boring into one another. 

Sherlock swallowed. His eyes filled with tears. John dropped the flannel into the sink and turned off the tap. Then he kneeled in front of the wheelchair and gently pulled Sherlock into his arms. Sherlock tentatively returned the hug. John closed his eyes. He carefully held Sherlock, gently caressing the nape of his neck. Sherlock felt his own tears drip onto John’s shirt and was ashamed for this open display of emotion and vulnerability. It had been years since he had felt like this. The last time had been, when he had fallen into his drug addiction. Sherlock had never wanted to experience this feeling again. And now a situation he had had no control over had put him into a similar position. It took Sherlock some minutes until he had himself back under control and the tears finally ran dry. He let go off John and lowered his head.

„I want to go back to bed,“ he murmured.   
„Of course.“ John helped Sherlock back into his hospital gown. Then he pushed his wheelchair back into his room and helped him into his bed. Sherlock curled up into himself. He was so tired… 

John stood next to him, unsure what to do.   
„Can I do something for you?“ he finally asked.   
„No… You already do so much for me.“  
„I… could go back to my hotel, get my shaving soap for you. We could try with a shave for you tomorrow. What do you think?“  
Sherlock nodded. „Tomorrow. Go back to your hotel. Take a shower and get some sleep. I’ll be alright.“  
„Really?“ Although he knew Sherlock was safe and cared for, it was against every of John’s instincts to leave Sherlock alone.   
„Yes, John.“ Sherlock tried to make his voice sound as confident as possible. „It’s only a few hours.“  
„Are you sure?“  
Sherlock smiled. „I’m sure,“ he replied more confident than he felt. John hesitantly licked his lips. Finally he nodded.   
„Fine. But if you need me: the nurses have my phone number. They can call me anytime. Okay? I’ll be back as soon as possible.“

John was in a taxi on his way to his hotel when he already had a bad conscience about leaving Sherlock. Had it really been a good idea to leave him alone? But the prospect of a hot shower and some fresh clothes had been too tempting. John hurried with his shower and a quick shave, packed his things and decided to already check out of the hotel. He wanted to stay with Sherlock at the hospital until he would be discharged. And return home together with him.

John had barely closed the door behind him, when Sherlock realized that he immediately missed John. How had it happened that he was already so fixated on John? Of course John was the most important person in his life. And he missed John now that he was gone for just one minute. Because he knew John couldn’t be back within a few minutes if something happened. But what should happen?, Sherlock’s rational self asked. John was only away for a few hours, and he was in hospital, his tormentors under arrest. The worst that could happen was a grumpy nurse or a disgusting lunch. Nonetheless Sherlock felt at a loss like seldom before. He involuntarily pulled his duvet higher and made himself as small as he could. He didn’t want to admit it even to himself, but he was desperate for John’s return.

It took John nearly three hours, before he was back at the hospital. When he entered Sherlock’s room, he immediately realized that Sherlock wasn’t feeling well. He had holed himself up under his duvet and flinched, when he heard the door open and close. John put his bag down.  
„Sherlock? Did something happen?“ He came to Sherlock’s bed. Sherlock slowly emerged from under his duvet. He looked badly stressed.   
„Are you alright?“ John sat down onto the edge of the bed. Sherlock’s hand sneaked out from under the duvet and closed around John’s.   
„Better now. I’m just… I’m just not myself at the moment,“ he admitted. John heard the relief in Sherlock’s voice.   
„I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.“ His gaze fell on a tray left on Sherlock’s bedside table: Sherlock’s lunch.   
„Did you eat?“  
Sherlock shook his head.   
„You have to eat, Sherlock. And drink something. Okay? Can you sit?“  
John helped Sherlock sit up, before he took off his jacket and took the lid from Sherlock’s meal. Sherlock’s gaze was a skeptical one: potatoes, a slice of a roast, mixed vegetables and a pudding in a disturbing shade of pink. John knew that nothing on this tray was to Sherlock’s liking. And of course the food was already cold. John pressed the call button for the nurse. 

A nurse came in after a few minutes and followed John’s request to heat the meal up again in the microwave. John waited by Sherlock’s side until she brought the tray back. John began to cut the meat for Sherlock and finally pushed the tray into Sherlock’s direction.   
„Eat whatever you want and how much you want.“  
Sherlock hesitated for a moment. But he was hungry. And as had brought most of his breakfast up again, he really had to eat something. He reached for the fork and slowly began to eat. 

Sherlock slept calmly for while without any nightmares. John stayed next to his bed, reading a book he had brought with him. Sherlock’s IV was changed once, but they were left alone for the rest of the day. It was early evening, when Dr. Flannery came to take a look at Sherlock. Sherlock wanted to get rid of the IV, and they had a little argument with Dr. Flannery. Dr. Flannery finally agreed, when John promised to take care of Sherlocks intake of liquids. 

In the afternoon Sherlock had been out of bed with John’s help and had walked a few steps. After that he was glad to be able to lie down again, but he was also proud that he had mastered the task - no matter how little it had been. Sherlock hated to depend on help, when he really needed some. It was a completely different matter if it was help he asked for every day, mostly mundane tasks. That was always something he gladly and naturally accepted. John knew this contradictory behavior very well. Strangely enough he was glad that this behavior seemed to be still the same. 

The rest of the day was uneventful. John eventually switched on the television. But when he didn’t find one single program in English, he switched it off again. Sherlock hadn’t paid attention anyway. He was very quiet. He just lay there looking out of the window. Sometimes he closed his eyes and now and then slipped into sleep.

When it was time for dinner, John finally got his own tray with food, since it was clear he would be staying. Later in the evening John tried to get as comfortable as possible in his armchair for the night. The whole time he considered to talk with Sherlock, but didn’t want to pressure his friend in any way. Once Sherlock felt better there would be enough time for talking

„Shall we change the bandages in sedation or do you want to try without?“ Dr. Flannery asked the next morning. Sherlock had been awake half of the night after he had woken from another nightmare and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. After a while he had pretended to be asleep, until John had dozed off again in his chair. Sherlock had watched John sleep. And with every passing minute he was more and more afraid of the changing of the bandages. He had barely eaten breakfast and suppressed the rising panic when Dr. Flannery entered his room.

„I… I’m not sure,“ Sherlock admitted.  
„The back will be the worst. You can decide where to start.“  
Sherlock looked to John. „What do you think?“  
John wanted to spare Sherlock even the slightest amount of pain. And even he wasn’t sure how much Sherlock was able to endure at the moment.   
„I agree with Dr. Flannery: your back will be the biggest challenge. The wounds there are the worst. If we start with your back you still have enough strength. We can always take a break if you need one. Are you fine with that?“  
Sherlock tried a deep breath, then nodded: „Alright.“

John accompanied Sherlock to the examination room. A nurse was already waiting for them. John left it to Dr. Flannery and the nurse to remove the bandages. He saw, how much Sherlock tried to brace himself for the pain. John sat next to him and let the others do all the work. Sherlock couldn’t suppress some moans, when Dr. Flannery cleaned his wounds. Eventually John took his hand and gently held it. Dr. Flannery seemed to work for a little eternity. When he was finished with Sherlock’s back, Sherlock’s whole body was shaking. His breathing was laboured, but he didn’t say anything. John bent forward to him.   
„Do you need a break?“  
„Just… a moment,“ Sherlock begged. He had been on his side for the whole procedure and gasped for breath. John cast a glance at Dr. Flannery, who occupied himself with the dressing material he needed. 

„The worst is over,“ John reassured his friend. Sherlock looked at him, he looked exhausted. „Maybe this wasn’t a good idea…“  
„You’re doing well. Deep breaths. We wait until you feel a little better. Do you want something to drink?“  
Sherlock shook his head. What he wanted was this procedure to end. His back hurt so much, it seemed every wound had been re-opened. He knew it wasn’t true. But it made it hard for Sherlock to hang on. After another few minutes rest he felt prepared for the next few minutes. 

Finally back in his room he had reached his limit. The lack of sleep didn’t make it any better. John helped Sherlock back to bed, when his phone pinged. With a sigh Sherlock sank onto his pillow. John pulled the duvet up for him, then he read the message. 

„From Anthea. We’re flying back to London tomorrow. Mycroft has organized a private charter. We’ll depart from Belgrade at noon and will arrive in London three hours later. One of the agents who was present during your rescue will accompany us. Dr. Flannery will be with us, too. That’s good news, are they?“ But when John looked to Sherlock, his friend had already fallen asleep and was breathing deeply and steadily. His smile was sad, when John rightened Sherlock’s duvet and took his place in his chair again to watch Sherlock sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, just like he had promised, John helped Sherlock to shave. Sherlock was impatient. He couldn’t wait to leave the hospital as well as Serbia. He was twitchy and fidgeted, until it was finally time to get dressed. The first thing John handed him was a t-shirt. 

„I can’t offer you a better option. But it’s only for the flight back to London. I’m sorry I didn’t remember to bring something from home for you.“  
Sherlock took a look at the plain white shirt. He straightened with a sigh.  
„Can you open the knots, please?“ he asked quietly, because he wasn’t able to reach the knots at his neck and back.  
„Oh… sure.“ 

John opened the knots of the hospital gown and pushed the fabric from Sherlock’s shoulders, revealing the bandages and dressings beneath. John tried not to show how much Sherlock’s sight still worried him. Beneath the bandages every prominent rib and backbone was visible. Sherlock took the shirt from John. He carefully shook it out and pulled it over his arms. But his injured shoulder and the many wounds restricted his movements. John was silent while he helped him into the shirt, into plain track bottoms, matching jacket and a pair of trainers. Captain Apone had brought them for Sherlock and had left them for Sherlock at the ward. John pushed the wheelchair next to Sherlock’s bed and helped Sherlock into it. He took his own bag. 

„Ready?“  
„Take me home, John,“ Sherlock just begged. He rounded his back to avoid too much contact with the backrest of the wheelchair. John brought Sherlock down to the main entrance where Captain Apone and Dr. Flannery were awaiting them. Apone introduced himself. Sherlock’s heart began to race. Had Apone, too, seen him bleeding - raped and helpless?  
„Your brother thought it was a good idea, if someone from the rescue team accompanied you back to England. Just to make you feel a little safer. How do feel now, Mr. Holmes?“ Apone asked with honest interest. Sherlock didn’t know what to say.  
„I… It’s okay. I’m glad to go back home.“  
„I understand. Then let’s go home, shall we? Do you need any help?“  
„No. I…“ Sherlock looked up to Apone. „Thank you. I owe you and your team my life,“ he said quietly. John put a gentle hand onto his shoulder. Such a confession was odd for Sherlock. Apone just nodded. He guessed that more words weren’t necessary. He pulled a car key from his pocket. „I’ll go get the car.“

The ride to Belgrade took nearly two hours. A member of the airline Mycroft had hired was waiting for them at the main entrance with a wheelchair for Sherlock. He also handed Sherlock his new passport. John, Sherlock and Dr. Flannery entered the airport, while Apone parked the car and joined them a few minutes later. They were accompanied to check in and directly to the gate. John pushed Sherlock towards the little white private jet and helped him to climb up the stairs. Once in the aircraft cabin, John pointed toward one of the seats with some pillows arranged on it.  
„Must be your seat.“ Sherlock was relieved, when he sank down into his seat. John rightened the pillows for him, until Sherlock was comfortable, and helped him to fasten his seatbelt. 

„I think we’ll depart, soon. Do you need anything, Sherlock?“  
Sherlock sighed. The way to the airport had exhausted him more than he wanted to admit.   
„Something to drink maybe,“ he said. John nodded and walked down the aisle. A flight attendant was busy in the back of the cabin, when John approached her.   
„Miss? Could we get some water, please?“  
„After take off, sir. Then I’ll bring you some water.“  
„My friend had a very bad time. I’m a doctor, and he needs to drink something. Now,“ he said quietly but with as much authority as possible. The flight attendant hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded.   
„I’ll be there in a moment. Please take your seat, sir, and fasten your seatbelt. We’re nearly ready to depart.“  
John went back to his seat. „Dr. Flannery can give you another painkiller after take off.“  
Sherlock just nodded. He looked annoyed while they were waiting for departure. His hands were folded over his baby bump. The tips of his fingers were still swollen, dark blue bruises were visible beneath some of his fingernails. John wouldn’t want to imagine how painful and difficult it must be for Sherlock to use his hands. 

Dr. Flannery had chosen a seat in the front of the cabin, Apone behind them. The flight attendant brought a glass of water for Sherlock before she sat down on her own seat. The captain welcomed his passengers, told them about their departure and the estimated flight time. Only a few minutes later the plane started to move toward the runway. Sherlock had seldom experienced a better feeling than the rumbling of the small plane over the runway. And then they were up in the air. Sherlock felt relief rushing through his veins. The ground moved further and further away with every second. Just a few more hours until he would be back in London. Just a few more hours, and the real and tangible part of his nightmare would be left behind him. 

Once the fasten-your-seatbelt signs were switched off, Dr. Flannery gave Sherlock another painkiller. John fumbled with the adjustments of his seat until he succeeded in lowering the backrest a little. He tried to start a conversation with Sherlock, but Sherlock wasn’t very talkative right now and preferred to look out of the window. John gave up at some point. The steady humming of the plane’s engines made him doze off. Sherlock couldn’t sleep, even though he was really tired. Everything he did wore him out, and his thoughts were chaotic. His hands were still folded above his belly, sometimes his fingers twitching. Now that he was on his way back home to London, back home to safety, his feelings started to become a mess. 

Just a few days ago he had only had one thought: to protect the innocent unborn life inside his body. But suddenly he started to feel a certain aversion against the children he was carrying. Two children… he would never be able to or wanted to care for them. Even if they hadn’t been conceived through pain and violence. Suddenly Sherlock felt like he had two parasites inside his body: feeding on his resources, steeling his strength, making him immobile and therefore an easy target. Sherlock knew, if he succumbed to this feeling, he would suffer a real panic attack. So he tried to take deep, steady breaths, studied the clouds outside the window and literally counted the minutes. This helped him to stay calm and show nothing of all the turmoil inside him. 

Finally the plane started the descent. Sherlock straightened a little. The well known patterns of an English landscape came clearer into view and made Sherlock’s heart beat a little faster. When the plane touched down, John and Sherlock shared a long view and smiled. Both were relieved to be back to England.

A private transport was waiting for them on the tarmac. A member of the border patrol checked their passports right there, and Sherlock could enter the ambulance. John said good bye to Captain Apone and Dr. Flannery, before he climbed into the ambulance, too. They were brought to London Royal Hospital and accompanied to a private ward. John waited with Sherlock in his single room, until a senior physician met them half an hour later. 

„Hello, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson… I’m Dr. Harlan. I hope your journey was not too stressful.“ Dr. Harlan took a chair and sat next to Sherlock’s bed. He didn’t even wait for a reply, but continued: „Dr. Watson gave us all the reports from the colleagues in Serbia. As your bandages were already changed yesterday I can spare you this procedure today. A colleague from andrology and Omega obstetrics will examine you tomorrow. Are you okay with that?“  
Sherlock just looked at Dr.Harlan and finally nodded. All he wanted now was some rest.  
„Okay. This is a private ward. What ever you need, don’t hesitate to ask. A member of our service team will be here, soon, to ask for any requests you might have. We were told that Dr. Watson can stay for the night if you wish. If you’ve got any questions, just call for the nurse or the service team. I hope we can discharge you again in just a few days, given that your wounds heal and the pregnancy develops well.“  
Sherlock said nothing, he was annoyed. But Dr. Harlan got up already. „That’s everything for the moment. See you tomorrow for the ward round.“ With that he was gone.

„I’ll call Mycroft again and try to get some clothes for you. Shall I tell him something from you?“ John asked and sat down into a comfortable armchair in a corner of Sherlock’s room.   
„My brother will be here and pester me soon enough. Some clothes would be nice.“  
„I’ll get you something. Anything else you might need?“  
Sherlock shook his head. He yawned, his jaws made a plopping sound. His eyes started to droop. It was only minutes until he was asleep, and John left the room to call Mycroft. 

„I was told you arrived safely. Did Sherlock pull through the journey well?“ Mycroft Holmes was eloquent as always.   
„He’s fine. But I would like to bring him some clothes. Did you keep some of his own stuff?“  
„You’ll find everything you need at Baker Street.“  
„At Baker Street?“ John asked puzzled.   
„Of course. You didn’t think Sherlock would return from his mission to move into a flat other than Baker Street? Just because you moved out doesn’t mean Sherlock wouldn’t want to return to his home.“  
John snorted. He should have known the Holmes brothers would have made elaborate plans. Only Sherlock’s capture hadn’t been part of the plan.   
„That makes everything much easier.“

„Did Sherlock already make a statement concerning the pregnancy?“ Mycroft changed the subject. John flinched.   
„No. We had other things on our minds.“  
„What ever Sherlock may tell you - you know he doesn’t want children.“  
„I know. But that doesn’t mean he wants an abortion.“  
„All I wanted to say is - please don’t react too badly if he brings up the subject. And he will.“  
„Maybe. But since then I will just be there for him. And way beyond that. Should he really want an abortion, I will stay at his side.“  
„I expected nothing less.“  
John sighed. Talking to Mycroft Holmes was always exhausting. Mycroft continued: „If you need anything, just tell me. I really appreciate what you do for Sherlock and that he accepts your help. I wasn’t so sure about that.“  
„He trusts me.“  
„Yes…“ There was a moment of silence between them. Once again John wondered what problems the brothers had with each other. Was it just the fact they were Alpha and Omega? Or was there much more under the surface?  
„Anything else you might want to tell me, Dr. Watson?“  
„Um… no. Once I’ve got news, I’ll get in touch.“  
„Very well. Welcome back home.“  
„Thank you… Bye.“ John put his phone into his pocket and went to the cafeteria to have a cup of tea. 

Sherlock slept for two hours until he became agitated and finally woke. He didn’t want to talk about the bad dream that had obviously woken him. John knew Sherlock would have to look for help some time in the future. If he would talk to John or a professional, John didn’t care. Today Sherlock was very quiet, looking out of the window most of the time. It was summer. Life in London mostly took place outside during this time of year. The people loved to spend their free time outside - whether it was at a restaurant, having a beer in front of the pub or enjoy a stroll in one of London’s parks. John wished they could be part of it. Instead he eventually switched on the telly. Sherlock didn’t object, secretly wishing to be part of the normal life outside, too. How long, until he could have that again?

John looked tired, when Sherlock looked at him a few hours later. He frequently changed his position in his chair - an indication for Sherlock that John was feeling unwell and most likely tensed up. It took Sherlock some time to consider, then he made a decision.

„Go home, John. I’m tired from the journey. And you should get a good night’s sleep. I’ll be fine. One more night in a chair and you can dispose of your spine.“  
John sighed. „Are you sure? If you need me and I’m not here, I would regret it. In Stragari you were alone for only a few hours, and it didn’t go well.“ But the prospect of spending a night in a bed was more than tempting.  
„I can handle a night alone. Really, John. Get some rest.“ Sherlock tried to smile. He pretended to sound braver than he felt. In fact John’s presence had helped him a lot. Even though his rational self knew he was save, John’s presence had helped him to relax. But Sherlock saw the dark circles around John’s eyes and heard him moaning while he massaged his wounded shoulder whenever he thought Sherlock was asleep. 

„All right. But if you need me, don’t hesitate to call me. Okay?“  
Sherlock nodded.   
„Good. See you tomorrow, then. Sleep well.“  
„You, too. Good night.“  
John got up and took his jacket. He came to Sherlock’s bed. It surprised them both, when John hugged Sherlock carefully, before he left with his bag in hand. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed. Of course it was not only his concern for John’s wellbeing that had made him send his friend home. Sherlock had to think. His brain was functioning properly again. And he knew he had to face a decision now. A serious decision. The pregnancy. He still felt torn and out of control. He knew he would have to make a decision he didn’t want to make but was forced to. Maybe the talk with the andrologist tomorrow would help him. 

After John had brought his bag to his flat and taken a shower, he now stood in front of the black door with the well known numbers 221 and the B, the knocker beneath as always a little askew. It was early evening, and John was still thinking about whether or not he should go in. So much time had passed since he had last seen Mrs. Hudson. He had a guilty conscience about her. He should have kept contact. But he hadn’t been able to manage it. Had unconsciously avoided her. And staying in 221B had been impossible with the horrible mix of grief, hopelessness, loss and guilt John had felt at that time. Only a few days after the funeral John had left Baker Street. Without Sherlock it hadn’t been a home anymore. John moving out had come as a surprise to Mrs. Hudson, but she hadn’t ever blamed John for leaving. After that they had barely spoken on the phone. The last time had been months ago… 

John licked his lips. Then he took the two steps up to the door with grim determination and rang the doorbell. It took only a few moments, until the door was opened. John could see the surprise on Mrs. Hudson’s face change into a smile.   
„John! Oh how nice of you to come by! Come in, please, come in!“ She pulled John into the hallway and further into her flat. She hadn’t changed a bit. John recognized the dark dress with the flowery pattern. Mrs. Hudson had worn it many times. It was only moments until John found himself in Mrs. Hudson’s small kitchen.  
„Sit down, dear. Tea?“  
John nodded and took one of the chairs. 

„It’s so good to see you! But you look pale, John. Are you feeling well?“ Mrs. Hudson immediately started to make some tea.   
„I’m fine, thanks. What about your hip?“  
Mrs. Hudson made a dismissive move with her hand. „Oh, don’t ask. Where do you live now?“  
Now it was John who made a similar gesture. „A small bedsit somewhere in the middle of nowhere,“ he sighed.   
„Are you still working for that nice doctor, how was her name… Sarah?“  
John rubbed his forehead. „No, it… didn’t work out anymore. I do stand-ins. Mostly holiday replacements. Nothing too challenging. But it’s a good distraction. And I have to live and pay my bills.“  
„Do you still see inspector Lestrade?“

Another sore spot. John hadn’t kept contact to Greg Lestrade. Greg had tried to keep in touch. Had invited John for a pint now and then. Had offered to be there, if John wanted to talk. More than once. Every time John had thanked him and promised to get back to his offer. And never did. Now he was ashamed for his behaviour.   
„We… no. I haven’t spoken to him for a while, I admit.“  
Mrs. Hudson shot him a disapproving look. „You let yourself go, John,“ she chided. John huffed. There was no way to deny this.   
„Maybe,“ he admitted. In the meantime Mrs. Hudson had finished making tea. Teacups, milk and sugar were already on the table, followed by the teapot. John poured them tea, while Mrs. Hudson took the chair opposite him. 

„Why are you here today?“ she asked. Her smile faltered a little. John took a deep breath.   
„Mrs. Hudson… I don’t know how to tell you… Sherlock’s not dead,“ he simply said. Mrs. Hudson processed this information for a moment. And then surprised John by saying: „I assumed that.“  
„What?“  
Mrs. Hudson cocked her head. „John Watson, what am I supposed to think when Mycroft Holmes comes to me and asks me to change nothing in Sherlock’s flat? You moved out just a few days before, and I was all alone with that challenge. I mean… you know the flat and all that stuff Sherlock had collected. When Mycroft came to me I first thought he wanted to offer help to clean the flat out. On the contrary. He asked me not to rent it to someone else.“ Mrs. Hudson took a sip of her tea. „I asked him what he was thinking. After all it would be a financial loss I would face without the rent of Sherlock’s flat. He assured me he would keep paying the rent. Told me something about memories and sentiment. And that his parents were still struggling with Sherlock’s death. But honestly, John: Why keep a flat in the exact same condition if the resident will never return? I am not stupid, John.“  
John couldn’t help but smile. „You are a marvel, Mrs. Hudson. And you’re absolutely right.“  
„You should have thought about that, too. If only you had visited me some time.“  
John nodded, his cheeks suddenly burning. „You’re right.“ He raised his hands, accepting his guilt.  
„Where is Sherlock?“  
„At the hospital.“  
„Oh!“ Mrs. Hudson clasped a hand over her mouth. „What happened?“


	10. Chapter 10

And so John told Mrs. Hudson everything about Sherlock’s mission: his attempt to destroy Moriarty’s network. The fact that Mycroft had lost contact with him and had finally gotten in touch with John. How John had felt, how terrible it had been to discover the truth. And how they had rescued Sherlock from his captivity.  
„Sherlock is back in London as of today. He has to stay in hospital for a few days. And he… he is not well. He was tortured in Serbia. His injuries are not that bad, he will recover. But he… he is traumatized. Of course. Even if he tries to play it down and not to show anything. But he has terrible nightmares, let’s nobody near. Except me. But it’s hard for me, too, to deal with him. I… I missed him terribly, and I mourned him. And sometimes I am so damn angry with him. But then he wakes from a nightmare and screams my name, and… Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock… he was abused in Serbia. He’s an Omega. And he is pregnant,“ John finally burst out. He looked at his former landlady. He could see how shocked she was, overwhelmed, suddenly teary-eyed. 

„Oh my god… poor boy… Can I visit him? Do you think he would be okay with that?“  
„I’ll ask him. He really likes you. I’m sure he would be happy to see you.“  
„Good. What do you think - when will he be discharged?“  
„You know him. He wants to go home as soon as possible.“  
„But of course he wants to! That’s totally understandable. Tell him that, will you? And… what about you, John?“ Mrs. Hudson looked concerned.   
John sighed. „I… I want to be there for him. Take care of him. Help him. So… would you mind if I moved back into my old room?“  
Tears were shining in Mrs. Hudson’s eyes, and the dabbed at them with a handkerchief. „Are you really asking me that? I would love to have you back. It’s only a little dusty up there, I’m afraid…“  
„No problem. I’ll take care of it.“  
„I can help you a bit.“  
„Thank you. Can I… go upstairs and have a look?“  
Mrs. Hudson nodded. „Sure, John. Just a moment.“ She stood up and opened one of her kitchen drawers. Then she handed John a key. John swallowed hard. The key chain he himself had attached to them was still hanging from the metal ring. John looked up to her, the keys on his palm. Mrs. Hudson just smiled. John stood up.  
„Okay, then… I’ll go upstairs.“

When John opened the living room door, his heart was pounding hard and fast. Entering the flat after such a long time was like stepping into a time capsule. Nothing seemed to have changed. The room was only dimly lit, until John opened the curtains. Clouds of dust swirled through the air. John could’t help but smile. Sherlock would have loved the dust. Dust told him a lot about the lifes of people. Nontheless John would have to clean the flat before Sherlock came back. John went through to the kitchen.

Table and worktops were empty. Sherlock’s lab equipment was stored away in boxes piled up in a corner of the kitchen. John checked the cupboards. Of course all the food was gone. John would have to do the shopping. Apart from that everything seemed unchanged. But the kitchen was not the most important. 

John opened a window in Sherlock’s bedroom. He hesitated to take a look into Sherlock’s wardrobe. But in the end his curiosity won. Also he had promised Sherlock to bring him some clothes. John looked at Sherlock’s shirts and suits, all fastidiously arranged. Just like his underwear and socks in his chest of drawers. The sock index… John smiled. Sherlock had some really special mannerisms. For a moment John wondered, how Sherlock had looked during his mission. Certainly he hadn’t worn one of his bespoke suits. 

The bed wasn’t made. John sighed, when he took clean bedclothes from Sherlock’s wardrobe and started to make his bed. He smiled while doing it, because he remembered the bedclothes so well. Sherlock’s exclusive taste included his bed as well. John didn’t care much about his bedclothes, whether they had a pattern or not. But Sherlock owned only white bedclothes, only the finest, softest cotton with a high thread count. John had washed them often enough during their time together. At least Sherlock had always made his bed himself. Today was the first time John did it for him. And in only a few days Sherlock would press John and his doctors to discharge him from hospital. 

When the bed was made, John sank down onto the duvet and took some deep breaths. Being here felt unreal. Moving back in tomorrow felt unreal. But he wanted to leave his boring bedsit as soon as possible. And then he would be living with Sherlock again. Just like it was before. But at the same time everything would be different. John knew he would have to come to terms with everything. Sherlock’s situation was difficult. And John had to be the one to be there for him and support him. No matter how things developed. 

It was clear to John, that Sherlock would be thinking about ending the pregnancy. He felt his stomach churn at that thought. In contrast to Sherlock, John had already seen the babies in Sherlock’s body. He feared that Sherlock would reflect about his condition in a different way, now that he was home and safe. It was relatively easy to imagine Sherlock’s thought process and his feelings at the moment. Now that he was no longer in danger, he would judge his situation in a different way. It was absolutely possible that he would decide against the pregnancy - Omega or not. He may have done everything in his power to protect his offspring during his captivity. It was instinct. But now…

With a loud sigh John laid down onto Sherlock’s bed. He was so exhausted, and all these thoughts tired him even more. Maybe he should already just sleep here tonight. Mrs. Hudson surely wouldn’t mind. And it would make no difference if he slept in his bedsit or here at Baker Street. Making his own bed in his own room upstairs though seemed to be too time-consuming now. Sherlock surely wouldn’t mind if John spent a night in his bed. So John stripped down to his pants and t-shirt and slipped under Sherlock’s duvet. It took him barely five minutes to fall asleep.

 

Mycroft Holmes was no man who had to stick to visiting hours. After John had left the hospital to go to Baker street, Mycroft had advised his driver to bring him to the hospital. Sherlock had a private room just like in Serbia. But of course this room was much more luxurious than the one in Serbia. It was shortly after 9 p.m. when Mycroft entered the hospital. The night nurse on Sherlock’s ward approached him on the corridor.

„Good evening, sir. Visiting hours are over, I’m afraid,“ she said with a polite smile. Mycroft smiled back, though his smile was much thinner. „I’m here for my brother. Sherlock Holmes. Room 152, if I remember correctly. Mycroft Holmes,“ he introduced himself. The nurse lifted an eyebrow. She had already heard this name and had been told that this man was allowed to visit any time.

„Oh, of course. I was informed. Room 152 is correct. I just don’t know if your brother is already asleep by now.“  
„In this case I’m not going to wake him. I just want to see him.“  
„You’re welcome. If you need anything…“  
Mycroft just nodded, before he went along the corridor towards Sherlock’s room. He knocked and entered, when he didn’t get an answer. A night light was on, Sherlock was on his side, eyes closed. Mycroft stood in the door for a moment to collect himself. 

„How do I deserve such an honor?“ Sherlock asked quietly and opened his eyes.   
„Hello, Sherlock.“ Mycroft tried to hide his horror. He had read the medical reports and had thought he had been prepared for the condition his little brother was in. But he had underestimated how it felt to see Sherlock like this. His dark hair was cropped short and stood in every direction. His eyes weren’t so badly swollen anymore, but the abrasions and bruises on his face still very visible. And he was so thin… Apart from his swollen belly that was barely recognizable under the duvet. 

„May I come closer?“  
Sherlock’s heart beat a little faster. Mycroft was his brother. But he was also an Alpha. And he knew that his presence could stress Sherlock. After all Sherlock had been through, he would be highly alert. And an unbonded Alpha like Mycroft could very easily trigger something. Sherlock was touched by his brother’s respect for his situation.   
„Of course.“ Sherlock reached for the remote for his bed. He sat up and used the remote to lift the top end of his bed.   
„Could you re-arrange the pillow?“ he asked. Mycroft came closer. He shook up Sherlock’s pillow, and Sherlock leaned back with a sigh. Mycroft placed a chair next to Sherlock’s bed. He tried not to look at the baby bump, which was of course much more visible now. 

„How do you feel?“  
Sherlock snorted. „Serious question?“  
„Absolutely.“  
Sherlock shook his head, eyes lowered. He didn’t really want to talk about how horrible he felt. Mycroft waited a moment, until he spoke again.  
„John is at Mrs. Hudson’s right now. You’ll be pleased to hear your flat at Baker street is untouched.“  
„Good. I want to be discharged as soon as possible.“  
„As always you are free to leave whenever you want.“  
Mycroft studied Sherlock for a moment. He saw Sherlock swallowing.   
„I have an appointment with an andrologist tomorrow. But John advised me to stay a few more days to monitor the wound healing.“  
„What ever you and Dr. Watson think best. Did you already decide about… the pregnancy?“  
Sherlock swallowed again. His thoughts were focused on little else. „That’s why I have my appointment tomorrow. To talk about my options.“  
„You never wanted children.“  
„You don’t have to remind me!“ Sherlock felt already miserable. He didn’t want to admit how much Mycrofts remark affected him and put him under even more pressure.  
„You will be relieved to hear that all the men my team captured are already arrested. Of course your testimony is necessary, though. And you have to identify the men who did this to you.“ Mycroft tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible. He wasn’t entirely successful. 

Sherlock nodded, but couldn’t say anything.   
„Dr. Watson is going to bring you some of your own clothes. Is there anything I can provide?“  
„What do you have in mind?“  
Mycroft sighed. „Maybe you want to listen to some music? Need a laptop?“  
„Whatever.“  
„Mummy and Daddy send their love.“  
Sherlock flinched. „You don’t let them come, understood?“ he demanded.  
„They will want to see you. And you know how stubborn Mummy can be if she wants something. I will hardly be able to keep them from visiting you.“  
„No! Please, Mycroft, don’t let them come!“ In fact Sherlock’s voice was pleading now.  
„I’ll do what I can. But they are worried.“  
Sherlock looked insecure. „Do they know what happened?“  
Mycroft in turn looked uneasy. „Not in detail. But they do know that you got captured and hurt. And that you’re pregnant.“  
„Oh god…“ Sherlock murmered, „You should’t have told them…“  
„How am I supposed to keep this fact from them, hm? They knew what kind of mission it was. When I lost contact to you, I tried to hide this from them for as long as I could. But eventually they suspected something was wrong.“  
„You shouldn’t have told them about the pregnancy, My!“ By now Sherlock sounded really upset. His parents had their own unconventional story. And they had always supported their sons, no matter what. Sherlock knew they always had a problem with his decision to live as a Beta. Since Mycroft, too, had never tried to start a family, grandchildren had just been a very distant thought. It was clear to Sherlock that his parents would struggle a lot, if Sherlock decided against the pregnancy. 

„Why did you tell them? Damn…“ Sherlock sat upright now and glared daggers at his brother.   
„It…“ Mycroft looked uncomfortably. „It was an accident. A slip of the tongue. I apologize.“  
„How could you be so careless? What am I supposed to do now?“  
„As I said, I am sorry. But now they know they want to see you.“  
Sherlock groaned. If his hair had been long enough he would have torn at it. „You make this all the more difficult for me. You understand that, do you?“  
Mycroft sighed. „I know,“ he admitted. Then he gained his composure back. „So - can I get you something, brother mine?“  
„No. John will take care of everything.“  
„Very well.“ Mycroft stood. „Then I should let you sleep. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact me.“  
Mycroft looked down at him before he quietly said: „I am grateful you’re still alive. And that you’re back home.“  
That came as a surprise for Sherlock. And he had no idea what to say. So he only nodded. Mycroft turned around and left. Sherlock lowered the top end of his bed again and switched off the light. But he knew he would hardly find any sleep.

Shortly after breakfast a nurse came in to bring Sherlock to the clinic for andrology and Omega obstetrics and directly into an examination room. The doctor sitting at the desk stood and rounded the desk to greet Sherlock. She was in her mid-fifties, had her grey hair in a fancy short-cut and wore glasses with a prominent dark frame. 

„Mr. Holmes - good morning. Dr. Eliza Gawen. I’m a senior physician. How did you sleep tonight?“ She offered Sherlock her hand. Sherlock looked at her: Beta, married, two adult daughters still in university, a weakness for holiday trips to Asia.   
„Little,“ Sherlock replied honestly.   
„I can prescribe you something homeopathic that won’t harm you during pregnancy. I’ll make a note for the nurses. You can always ask for it.“  
„I don’t need much sleep.“ True, if he was healthy. He knew he should get more sleep but wasn’t able to admit that. 

„I went through the reports from Serbia with all the necessary data. Still I would like to examine you myself. Just to see how the children are doing. But I’m sure you want to get to know me a bit better. Shall we first talk a little?“  
Sherlock was pleasantly suprised. He instantly liked her.   
„Yes, I would appreciate that.“  
„Fine. Then let’s talk.“

Dr. Gawen turned one of the chairs in front of her desk and sat opposite Sherlock.  
„Are you comfortable enough?“  
„I’m fine.“  
„Okay. If you need a break, just tell me. Your reports from Serbia say you are approximately 18 weeks pregnant. Any problems related to the pregnancy? Cramps, pain, bleeding?“  
„No.“ When Sherlock realized he was all tensed up, he tried to relax his muscles und put his palms flat on his thighs.   
„What about urination and bowel movement?“  
„No problems.“  
„The examination and ultrasound the colleagues in Serbia did showed no abnormalities. Your cervix is closed, the twins are on the small side but regularly developed. The injuries caused by the sexual violence didn’t need surgery. Of course there is some scar tissue, but I don’t expect any problems for the ongoing pregnancy and childbirth. But I will look at you after our conversation.“

„What if I don’t want the pregnancy?“ Sherlock asked the one question that dominated his thought process. He had succeeded in keeping his voice calm and his face blank.   
Dr. Gawen had expected such a question. She didn’t come as a surprise. Sherlock had been raped for months. Even though he was an Omega, he hadn’t wanted these children. That’s why her answer was open and honest. 

„If you want to terminate the pregnancy, it’s your decision. Abortion is legal until 24 weeks of pregnancy. And you are in a situation… where no doctor would deny you an abortion. But you should be clear about the consequences. What it means for your psyche.“  
„You can leave my psyche up to me.“ Sherlock’s voice was icy, but quiet.   
„Okay. However I have to inform you about the methods and the risks.“  
„That is your job.“  
„Mr. Holmes…“ Dr. Gawen sighed. „I understand why you consider an abortion. You are surely not the first person, no matter if Omega or Beta, male or female, who has to make such a decision. I assure you: I have heard every reason more than once. I assure you not to question these reasons. But I also assure you that his decision is a grave one. And I assure you that I was witness to many decisions being changed last-minute.“  
„Just tell me everything I have to know,“ Sherlock demanded. 

Dr. Gawen gave a small nod. Of course she had to fulfill her duty. „As I said… if the estimate is correct, you are about 18 weeks pregnant. A fetus could not survive outside the womb at this age of gestation. Nevertheless we would perform feticide before we initiate childbirth. We would inject a solution of potassium chloride directly into the heart of the fetus to provoke cardiac arrest. After that we would induce labour and you deliver the fetuses spontaneously. A cesarean would only be performed in case of emergency.“  
„Why? Wouldn’t a cesarean be a much simpler solution?“  
„Surgery is always more risky. A normal childbirth is much easier to convalesce from. Most studies prove that the mental stress is much higher for cesareans. I know it sounds paradox. But a spontaeous birth is easier to cope with.“  
„When would you be able to do that?“  
„I’m legally obligated to make an appointment for you with a consultant who can explain all options to you. *

(* I don’t know about the situation in the UK, but this would be the situation in Germany. Before having an abortion you have to see a consultant and need a written confirmation about the counselling.)

Sherlock snorted. „What options?“  
„You can carry the pregnancy to term and give birth to the children to give them up for adoption or to a foster family. If you change your mind and decide to keep the children there are different sorts of help you could make use of. Financial help. A family support could help you during the first year. And of course psychological help. You don’t have to do this all on your own. Your reports said, you live with someone. I am sure he will support you.“  
„John and I are not… He’s my best friend. Nothing more. And he’s a doctor. He would be against an abortion.“  
„That’s something every medical professional has to come to terms with on his own. I know many doctors who have issues. Many feel it’s against their hippocratic oath. Others are seeing the mother’s well-being as the top priority and are not against abortions.“  
„How about you?“ Sherlock asked and studied Dr. Gawen’s face, when she answered.  
„Don’t think I wouldn’t think about cases like yours when I go home. Because I do. But I trust that you don’t make this decision an easy one. From what I saw from you already I think you are a very self-reflected.“  
„One could call it sociopathic…“ Sherlock admitted quietly.  
„However, you are a rational und well educated man. You survived a horrible experience, Mr. Holmes. And I fully understand how difficult it must be for you to feel something for these children. You had to dissociate yourself from everything to stay mentally intact. But you don’t have to decide anything today. Just like I said: you have enough time up to 24 weeks of pregnancy. Take your time to think everything through. No matter how you decide: I’ll be there. If you finally decide to terminate the pregnancy, I won’t try to change your mind. It’s all up to you. If you should decide to carry the children to term, I would be glad to help you through the rest of the pregnancy.“

Sherlock studied Dr. Gawen very closely. Was she really offering her wholehearted support? Or had he missed something about her? Had she herself been in a similar situation? Dr. Gawen couldn’t help but notice Sherlock’s scrutiny. She sighed. „Not me. My little sister. She had to face the same decision,“ she admitted.   
„How did she decide?“  
„She decided against the child. And though she never regretted it, it came back to her now and then. It was not easy.“  
Sherlock lowered his gaze for a moment.   
„Mr. Holmes… Take your time. Nobody should make such a decision in a hurry. Whenever you feel the need to talk, I’ll gladly be there for you. Okay?“  
Sherlock nodded, then looked up again and met Dr. Gawen’s gaze. „Thank you…“  
„That’s my job. And if it’s okay for you, I would like to do a quick ultrasound. You just need to lie down for a moment and lift your shirt.“

Dr. Gawen helped Sherlock up and a few steps to the exam table.   
„Could you… could you please turn off the screen?“, Sherlock asked.   
„Oh, sure.“ Dr. Gawen reached for a remote from her desk. A TV screen on the wall was attached to the ultrasound, and she now switched it off. She turned the monitor of the ultrasound away from Sherlock’s view and began her examination.

„I’ll just take a look for pathologies, but I don’t expect to find any. I’ll make it quick.“  
Sherlock didn’t respond. He lay very still partially on his side, partially on his back, hands next to his body, staring up to the ceiling. The motions of the ultrasound probe over his belly weren’t painful, but felt awkward and wrong. In the meantime Dr. Gawen was typing something on the machine, printed a few fotos and lifted the probe from Sherlock’s skin after just a few minutes.   
„I’m done. Thank you for your patience.“ She wiped the blue ultrasound gel from Sherlock’s belly and helped him back into his wheelchair.  
„Everything alright. I’ll tell the nurse to bring you back to your room. Do you have any questions?“  
„No. Thank you for your honesty.“  
„My pleasure. You can contact me whenever you want. I’ll see you again in a few days to monitor your progress. And once you came to your decision, just get in contact.“  
„I will.“  
Dr. Gawen reached for the phone and asked for a nurse to bring Sherlock back to his ward.


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock thought it was pointless not to just tell John what was moving him at the moment. Maybe it was not the best idea to start a day like this. On the other hand this moment was as good as every other. And when the nurse pushed his wheelchair into his room, John was already waiting for him. He had been reading a book in the small armchair by the window and now threw the book onto the windowsill. 

„Good morning. You’ve been called out early. Nurses told me you went to see the andrologist. Everything okay?“  
Sherlock sighed. „Yes.“  
The nurse pushed the wheelchair directly next to Sherlock’s bed. „Do you need help, Mr. Holmes?“ she asked while fastening the brakes.   
„I’m fine,“ Sherlock replied.  
„Good. If you need anything: just call.“  
Sherlock nodded and waited for the nurse to leave. When she closed the door, John got up from his armchair.   
„Shall I help you?“ he asked when he was already kneeling down in front of Sherlock.   
„John…“ Sherlock sighed irritated. Nevertheless he lifted his feet and let John fold up the foot rests of the wheelchair. But before John could help him up, Sherlock pushed himself to standing with only a little pained moan. He shuffled the two small steps to the bed and sat down carefully. He sank back into the pillows.

„Are you comfortable? Do you want to drink something?“  
„Stop handling me with kid gloves, John.“  
John lifted a hand in self defense. Then he unlocked the brakes of the wheelchair and pushed it into a corner.   
„I talked with the doctor about an abortion,“ Sherlock said quietly but firmly.  
John immediately turned around. He looked alarmed. „You did what? Sherlock, that’s a decision you shouldn’t make right now. It’s only a few days since you’re free again. I know you want the control over your body back. But please think it through before you do something you’ll regret.“  
Sherlock held back a very snappish comment. „You sound exactly like Dr. Gawen. But also you didn’t really listen. I just said that we talked about an abortion. I didn’t decide anything yet.“

John took a relieved breath. He went back to his armchair and sat down on the edge, his elbows propped on his thighs.   
„That doesn’t mean I’m not considering it, though,“ Sherlock added.   
„I understand that, Sherlock. But really - take your time.“  
„I don’t have all the time in the world. And the longer I wait the more cruel it would be.“  
„If we didn’t make a mistake in our calculation, you have more than enough time for such a decision. Do you want to talk about it?“  
„Dr. Gawen told me everything I have to know and about the procedure.“  
„I didn’t mean that. But before you take such a decision you should talk to someone.“  
„What’s there to talk about?“  
„How you feel about it. About your possibilities.“  
„Possibilities…“ Sherlock snorted, „I have the possibility to get my life back. That’s all that matters to me.“  
„In terminating the pregnancy? Do you really think that’s the correct solution?“  
„At least it is a solution!“ Sherlock glared at John. John saw the conflicting feelings on Sherlock’s face. „I was raped, John! After my heat had started everybody just took me whenever they wanted! What’s growing in my body are the children of the men who violated me over and over again! What do you think how I feel about that?!“ Sherlock yelled. He was overwhelmed by feelings he had suppressed for months. 

„I’m sorry,“ John murmured. His cheeks turned red with shame.  
„You have no idea how I feel! Every single second it reminds me of what these… these animals did to me!“ Sherlock’s face was red, tears were starting to roll down his cheeks.   
„No. I have no idea how you feel. But it wasn’t your fault. And least of all one can blame the children.“  
„Oh don’t give me that, John… Just leave me alone. I can’t talk about it right now, and I don’t want to.“  
„Out of the question. I’m not leaving. You don’t have to talk to me, if you don’t want to. But I’m not going.“  
„Then do whatever you want,“ Sherlock snapped. He turned his back to John. John waited for a moment, before he got up again to open the bag he had brought, containing Sherlock’s personal stuff. Among them was a pair of pyjamas, which he placed at the end of Sherlock’s bed and put the rest of Sherlock’s clothes into the wardrobe. All the other things he had brought were toiletries - all the brands John knew Sherlock normally used. John brought everything to the bathroom. 

When he returned, Sherlock tried to get rid of the track pants he was wearing since yesterday. Without a word John helped him to change into his pyjamas and then sat down in the armchair again to continue reading. If Sherlock wanted to talk, he would. Until then John would wait. After all he was used to Sherlock not talking for hours or maybe days. 

 

„You’re against an abortion,“ Sherlock said after two hours of silence and therefore startled John with his words. John looked up from his book. He had already suspected that Sherlock had fallen asleep. Sherlock’s back was still turned, but at least he was talking now.  
„Honest answer? Yes,“ John replied.   
Another moment of silence until Sherlock prompted: „Go on.“  
„You wanna know why?“  
„Obviously.“  
„Because it doesn’t change anything that happened to you. And it’s not the children’s fault how they were conceived. They are victims of the situation, just like you. Don’t get me wrong, Sherlock. I don’t value their lives higher than yours. I never would. But I can’t just ignore these two lives either.“

Sherlock lay very still and contemplated John’s word. They made sense. And they were true. Sherlock understood John’s point of view. Of course he did. But he was the one with the children inside his belly. He was the one who could only take the wrong decision. Somebody had to lose in this case. Sherlock was afraid that - no matter what he decided - he would in the end have to face the fact that his decision had been wrong. His insecurity was so strong, he felt practically paralyzed with fear. He knew what he actually wanted: end this situation. As soon as possible. But then the consequence had to be an abortion.

„Did your doctor tell you, you have to see a consultant if you say you want an abortion?“ John asked quietly.   
„Yes.“  
„You can use this counseling just to talk to someone. Maybe it helps with your decision.“  
Sherlock remained silent for a minute, before he replied: „Actually I don’t want to take this decision.“  
John knew he should feel relieved about Sherlock’s statement, but he wasn’t. The decision would be even harder for Sherlock if he felt this torn. 

„Nobody wants to take such a decision,“ John then said and sighed. „I can only repeat myself: I support you. I am there for you. I help you. I mean it. You saved my life, Sherlock. I don’t want to say I owe you something. We both know that’s not necessary. You did what you did because you chose to. Anyway… I want you to know…“ John hesitated for a moment. Surely Sherlock knew how important he was for John. It was the same vice versa. But to say it aloud wasn’t that easy. 

„I want you to know that nothing is going to change anything between us. Nothing is going to change our friendship. Okay?“  
Sherlock couldn’t help but smile. John’s words were so comforting for his wounded, anxious heart.   
„I know, John. Thank you.“ Sherlock finally turned around to face John. He couldn’t suppress a moan, because it hurt. The painkillers were wearing off. Sherlock saw how tense John was. 

„Hey. Good to have you back,“ John smiled. „Please don’t exclude me, Sherlock. I’m am so relieved to have you back… I don’t want to lose you again.“  
Sherlock sighed. „You’re not going to lose me. And I don’t want to exclude you. On the contrary.“ Sherlock paused for a moment before he reached out for John. John immediately got up and sat down on Sherlock’s bed. He took Sherlock’s hand, studied the black fingernails, the abrasions. Carefully let his thumb glide over the back of Sherlock’s hand.   
„Mrs. Hudson wants me to greet you,“ he said, „I visited her yesterday. Your flat is untouched.“  
A smile played over Sherlock’s lips. „I can’t wait to go home.“  
„She wants to know if she can come for a visit.“  
Sherlock’s smile faltered. „Does she know what happened?“  
John nodded. „I couldn’t keep it from her.“  
Sherlock swallowed hard. On the one hand he didn’t like that John had told her. But on the other hand… They lived under the same roof. She would discover what had happened sooner or later. No chance of hiding anything from Mrs. Hudson. 

Sherlock looked at his own hand in John’s. They seemed to belong together… Sherlock felt a little uneasy at that thought. He pulled his hand from John’s grip and snuggled under his duvet. „Tell her I won’t stay in hospital more then a few days. She mustn’t make the effort to visit. I don’t want to stay longer then necessary. Just give her my regards, will you? She’ll understand.“  
„I will. Do you want to try to sleep a while before lunch?“  
Sherlock shrugged and asked: „What are you reading?“  
„Um… not a crime novel for once. It’s some kind of travel report about Canada.“  
„Read it to me,“ Sherlock requested and laid his head on his pillow. John lifted his eyebrows. Then he grinned. „I don’t know if I’m a good reader,“ he admitted, but went back to his armchair.   
„Shall I start from the beginning? I’m not that far already.“  
„Whatever you want. I’m not picky.“  
„Great help,“ John snorted, grinning. Then he opened his book and began to read from the page he had just begun.

Sherlock closed his eyes and listened to John’s voice. How many times had he lain in his cell in Serbia and wished he could hear John’s voice again! He hadn’t even cared if John had yelled at him angrily… Sherlock tried to block out everything except John’s voice. John’s voice, which always sounded a little nasal, but had always been so special for Sherlock. It was the only voice that was allowed to say absolutely everything to him. John was allowed to criticize him, boss him around (though not always successfully), correct him (seldom enough), beg for something, even yell at him. But Sherlock loved John’s voice the most when he laughed, when he giggled (yes, John Watson sometimes giggled), when he told Sherlock how brilliant, how outstanding Sherlock was. Sherlock had spent so many hours in Serbia remembering John and wishing to be with him again. And finally his dream had come true. He was back home, John was with him. He was safe. If he could only solve the problem with the pregnancy… Sherlock pushed the thought aside. Right now all he wanted was to listen to John’s voice and spend an hour without thinking. 

After lunch a young physiotherapist showed up to talk with Sherlock about some exercises for his knee and shoulder. Sherlock showed only a little aversion to the exercises. In the end he gave in and participated in the first exercises, made in bed. When John offered to leave him for the duration of his therapy session, Sherlock of course refused. He participated in the exercises because his reason told him to. And he knew John would insist he made them. For his own best. While Sherlock let the therapist move his arm, he could practically hear John’s words in his head. The first session ended after 30 minutes, and the therapist promised to come back tomorrow. 

Sherlock had just slipped into a light slumber, when half a dozen doctors entered the room, among them Dr. Harlan from yesterday. When the chief physician introduced himself, John sensed how Sherlock immediately tensed up. These many people were putting him under stress. He tried to retreat from everybody, pulling his duvet up and barely answering the questions of the doctors. Instead he repeatedly searched eye contact with John. John would had loved to send everybody out, but he held back. A ward round with the chief physician normally didn’t last long. This one, too, was over very soon. The only thing that bothered Sherlock was the announcement of Dr. Harlan that he wanted to change Sherlock’s bandages and dressings later today.

When he and John were alone again, Sherlock took some deep breaths before he scoffed: „Private ward or not - I hate hospitals.“  
„You’re doing well. Do you think you can stand the re-dressing better today?“  
„Are you coming?“  
„If you want me to…“ John was in fact surprised how important it was for Sherlock to have him near.   
„I would feel safer.“  
„Of course I’m coming with you.“

The re-dressing of Sherlock’s wounds went better then the last time. Many of the superficial wounds were already healing, part of the bruises changing color and vanishing. But Sherlock’s back was still problematic. The deep injuries still hurt a lot when Dr. Harlan and a nurse tended to them. Thanks to the antibiotics Sherlock had to take, nothing was seriously inflamed, but Dr. Harlan had to remove some necrotic tissue. It was clear to John that most of the wounds would leave visible scars. John wasn’t sure how Sherlock would cope with that. Sherlock always claimed his body was just transport and not important. He only slept and eat enough for his body to keep functioning properly. However Sherlock emphasized a well groomed appearance. Once he would see his back for the first time, he would surely be shocked. If this happened, John wanted to be there for him. Besides he would be the one to tend to Sherlock’s injuries once he was discharged from hospital.

John stayed for the night. He followed an inner voice that told him it was better not to leave Sherlock. And he was right. In the middle of the night Sherlock woke from a terrible nightmare. It took him quite some time to calm down. John sat next to him for the whole time, one arm around his trembling shoulders, and just tried to be there for him. It took hours until Sherlock could sleep again - lulled to sleep by John’s voice, once again reading for him from his book.

The physiotherapist returned twice the following day. In the morning they made exercises for the knee and some more ambulatory exercise on the corridor. In the afternoon he returned with some more exercises for Sherlock’s shoulder. John had excused himself after lunch to return home for a shower and a change of clothes. He already packed a first bag with clothes, which he brought to Baker street before he returned to hospital. When he came back to Sherlock’s room, the therapist had long left. Sherlock was in his bed, his face a stony mask. He stared out of the window. John felt immediately uneasy, when he shrugged of his jacket. He put a bag with two books onto his armchair. More to read to Sherlock, if he requested it. 

„Hey - are you alright?“ John asked concerned, when Sherlock didn’t move a muscle. No answer.   
„Sherlock?“ John approached Sherlock’s bed.   
„Sherlock - what happened?“ he asked before gently touching Sherlock’s arm. Should his friend had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice John, he didn’t want to startle him. John saw Sherlock swallow and blink. So he thankfully hadn’t retreated into his mindpalace, unreachable for John. John hesitated. Should he ask again? But then he decided to read some more for Sherlock. What ever was going on, Sherlock obviously wasn’t able to voice it at the moment. So John would just wait it out.

Of course John’s arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed. Sherlock wasn’t in his mind palace. But he felt nearly paralyzed by what he had been experiencing for the whole day now over and over again. At first he had believed the strange sensation to be just something physical. Digestive disorders or flatulence. After all he had been starving for months. It was just a few days since he had been eating again on a regular basis. Still not enough, he was aware. But still it was much more nutritious than the stuff he had been given in Serbia. Though that was not what he felt. He wasn’t able to look anything up on the internet. Why hadn’t he accepted Mycroft’s offer to bring him a laptop? Or at least a mobile phone? But even without this technical support it had dawned on him - these strange sensations he felt deep inside were no digestive disorders. And he felt horrified. Because now he had to accept the fact that the children inside his belly were no things. If he could feel them moving, then they were very much alive. And a part of him. 

When Sherlock reached this point, he threw off his duvet. He felt sick. John stopped reading and looked up. Sherlock hadn’t paid attention to his reading. He got up and limped to the bathroom as fast as he could. At least he was able to go to the bathroom on his own.   
„What’s the matter?“ John stood and followed Sherlock to the meanwhile closed bathroom door.   
„Sherlock? Must I worry?“  
John heard Sherlock retching from inside the bathroom.  
„Shall I call a nurse or a doctor? May I come in?“  
More retching, a pause, then the sound of the toilet flushing.   
„No…“ came the answer from the bathroom, Sherlock’s voice hoarse. John’s heart raced. He listened to the sounds from behind the door. The tap was turned on, ran for a while and was turned off again.   
„Please tell me what’s going on,“ John begged. The door was opened again and Sherlock limped back to his bed, his face pale. He got back into bed. John followed him.   
„Talk to me. That’s what I’m here for.“  
„I don’t want to talk.“  
John sighed. „Did something happen, when I was gone? Was someone here? Did someone say something to you?“  
Sherlock turned to face the window. John was at a loss and rubbed his forehead. „Shall I go ask a nurse if something happened? Would you prefer that?“  
„No! Nothing happened! Can’t I just be on my own for while and just think?“  
„Of course you can. But you can also talk to me.“  
Sherlock closed his eyes for two seconds and then said very calmly: „I don’t want to talk. Don’t you understand these five simple words? If you don’t understand them in English, I can repeat them in at least five different languages, John. So just leave it be, will you?“

John took a step back. This was Sherlock at his most defensive. John had already seen Sherlock in such a bad mood, even if it was rare. If Sherlock reacted like this, something was boiling deep inside of him. Usually John left him alone when Sherlock was in such a mood. But this was not the right situation to leave him. He was not his usual self. He was much too unstable. In every sense.   
„You have to talk about it, Sherlock. You don’t have to deal with whatever it is on your own. You don’t have to talk to me. But talk to someone.“  
„Leave me alone, John!“ Sherlock snapped. Then he turned onto his side, facing away from John.   
John took some deep breaths, sorting out his thoughts. Then he nodded once and put his jacket back on. „Right. I’ll go take a walk.“  
„Like I said: leave me alone. Go home. Come back tomorrow. I don’t want to see anyone anymore.“  
John froze.   
„What?“ he asked taken aback. Sherlock’s harsh words hurt.  
„You understood me perfectly fine,“ Sherlock said. Heat was rising in his cheeks.   
John’s hands were clenching repeatedly. He wasn’t sure what to do now. Of course he didn’t just want to ignore Sherlock’s request for his own good and stay - now more than ever. But Sherlock hadn’t been in control over his own life for months. It would be counterproductive if John ignored Sherlocks wishes and needs.   
„Really? Are you sure you want to be alone?“ John asked.   
„Yes, I am! And now go!“  
„Right. See you tomorrow. Take care. My mobile is always on. If something comes up…“  
„Understood. Go.“  
John sighed. „Sleep well,“ he said and left. Sherlock listened to John’s footsteps, the opening and closing of the door. He took a deep breath.


	12. Chapter 12

„Shit…“ Sherlock rolled onto his back again. Damn, he had never wanted to upset John or drive him away. Not John from all the people in the world. But he had put himself under so much stress, he had finally lashed out - at least figuratively. He had hurt John. Without wanting to. John only wanted to help him. He had been so supportive since his rescue, and all Sherlock did was behave badly, only caring about himself. What a shitty best friend he was… And for a second he was grateful that he and John weren’t more for each other, no matter how desperately Sherlock wished for something more. If they had been a couple, they would certainly have had a real domestic. 

Sherlock was still lost in thought, when there was this strange feeling deep inside his belly - again. Could it really be movement from the twins? Did it really feel like that? Was it normal to already feel movement at his stage of gestation? But what else would it be… He automatically put a hand on his baby bump, trying to feel something from the outside. But of course he didn’t feel anything. Just this vibration and twitching deep inside. 

Oh god… if this was actually the twins moving… Sherlock felt hot and cold at the same time - just like the whole day whenever he had felt it. The babies would be moving for weeks already, sure. But only now they would be already strong enough so Sherlock could feel them moving. And Sherlock suddenly felt the need to get things straight. So he rang for the nurse. When he was still alone after two minutes, he pulled on his dressing gown. Slowly limping he made his way to the nurse’s room. 

One doctor and two nurses were working on some patient’s records and talking about a patient, when Sherlock entered.   
„Mr. Holmes - can I help you?“ one of the nurses asked.   
„Can I speak to Dr. Gawen? The andrologist who saw me yesterday?“  
The doctor looked up from his paperwork. „I can try to call her. What do you want me to tell her?“  
„She offered me I could talk to her, whenever I need to.“  
The doctor checked the time on his watch. „I’m nearly done here. I’ll call her, see if she is still working. I can tell her you want to see her. Just go back to your room, Mr. Holmes. The nurses will tell you, if Dr. Gawen is able to see you.“  
Sherlock went back to his room. He didn’t have to wait long, until a nurse accompanied him to the andrologist’s department and into a waiting room.

Sherlock took a seat without saying anything. After a few minutes he nervously began to knead the belt of his dressing gown. In a chair opposite sat a young male Omega with his newborn child. The little mobile cot stood next to him, but he held his baby close to his chest. How proud and happy he seemed! Sherlock still hoped he wouldn’t be forced into a conversation, when the Omega addressed him.

„Your first?“ he asked with a smile.   
Sherlock nodded.  
„When are you due?“  
„Um… I… it’s 18 weeks, but… it’s twins, so…“ Sherlock fought the urge to get up and escape. The smile on the Omega’s face became brighter.   
„Oh, right. Are you excited already? My Alpha and me, we are so glad Aaron is finally here…“ He looked lovingly down at the baby in his arms. „We tried for more than a year until I got pregnant. We will spoil him rotten, I’m afraid. On the other hand: why not? Children a such a miracle, we should never take them for granted.“  
Sherlock nodded again. He didn’t want to talk about the happiness of other Omegas. 

„You don’t look so good, to be honest. Did you have an accident? Are the babies okay?“ the Omega asked. Sherlock grit his teeth. Why couldn’t the man just shut up and leave him alone? At least the Omega had come to the wrong conclusions. Of course he had mistaken the bruises and wounds on Sherlock’s face for the results of an accident.   
„Yes, an… accident. But I’ll be home soon.“  
„Thank god. I’m only waiting for my final examination. If everything’s fine, my Alpha’s going to take us home this afternoon.“  
„Good for you.“  
The Omega was quiet for a moment, before he said: „Don’t be afraid. I was afraid, too. Although we were so excited to have a baby. But I think fear is always a part of becoming parents. You just shouldn’t be afraid of the wrong things.“  
Sherlock looked puzzled.   
„New life should never be something to be afraid of. It’s just the responsibility you’re afraid of.“  
Sherlock blinked. He had no clue what to say. 

The same moment a young doctor looked into the waiting room.   
„Mr. Lawson, please?“  
„Oh, sure.“ The omega stood and gently laid his son into the mobile cot. When he went past Sherlock, pushing the cot, he smiled at him. „All the best for you.“  
„Thank you. For you, too,“ Sherlock murmured and took a deep breath, when he was left alone. His heart was beating hard. This had been an encounter he would have loved to avoid. The Omega had seemed so utterly content and happy! But this was exactly the picture everyone had of Omegas: they were very much family people, children were their biggest joy. What was wrong with him that he _didn't_ want that? Even his very emancipated mother had given up her career for the sake of her sons. Was the way he felt so wrong? 

Sherlock got up and went to the window. Once again the view out of the window distracted him a little. He looked down into the curb in front of the main entrance. It was a continual coming and going. The recent encounter had done nothing for him to make his decision easier. 

„Mr. Holmes?“  
Sherlock turned around. Dr. Gawen stood in the door and smiled at him.   
„You wanted to talk to me. Follow me, please.“  
Sherlock followed her into a small office, and they sat down at a table.   
„What can I do for you?“  
„Dr. Gawen… I… I’m not sure, if… I think, I can feel them. The children.“ Sherlock’s look at the andrologist was insecure and embarrassed. Again he began to knead the belt of his gown.   
„Very much possible. Many mothers feel the first movements from 18 weeks on. Especially when it’s twins. How does it feel?“  
„At first I thought it was digestive disorders. But… it’s like a vibration. It feels… like you’re holding a butterfly in your hands.“  
Dr. Gawen nodded. „Sounds like foetal movements.“ Then she sighed.   
„That doesn’t make your decision easier, does it?“  
Sherlock looked at his hands.   
„I… I don’t know what to do,“ he admitted.   
„Mr. Holmes… I told you I would very much like to be there for you. No matter what you decide. Being able to feel the foetuses makes them more real, doesn’t it? You can’t go on pretending there’s nothing.“  
„It… since now it was just abstract. I never wanted children. I always hated my second gender. After it had been clear I was an Omega everyone treated me differently. Everyone tried to push me into a direction I myself never wanted to take. Just the thought of bonding with an Alpha, having his children, only working part time in a silly job without any perspective and only be there for the family… I always despised that. I am… different. I never wanted anything like that. I don’t have any connection to children. Even when I was one myself…“ Sherlock was surprised how easy it was to talk about his past. 

„What about your parents? What did your parents wish for your future?“  
Sherlock was intrigued, when he saw honest interest on Dr. Gawen’s face.   
„They supported me. Allowed me to study chemistry. But being an Omega… I had many problems back then. Some of them I still carry with me. You saw the old track marks. I was a junkie. I never had a relationship. I’m a sociopath. I have no real interest in other people, and I often don’t understand them. How should someone like me be able to love these children? How should I be able to care for them?“  
„Even if it seems impossible to you right now, that doesn’t mean it can’t change. The decision is a difficult one for you after all.“

Sherlock swallowed. No, it wasn’t an easy decision.   
„What would you do if you were in my position?“ Sherlock finally asked, his voice very quiet, his lips felt numb. Dr. Gawen saw the helplessness in his verdigris eyes. She sighed. She usually didn’t talk about her own feelings and always acted as a professional. But right now she decided to give Sherlock an honest answer.

„I am not you. But I couldn’t live with an abortion. For me adoption would be the only solution.“  
Sherlock studied her face for a moment. She told the truth.   
„But that would mean I wouldn’t be able to function normally for several months.“  
„Who says that? You’re working as a detective, right?“  
„Consulting detective.“  
„Nothing to be said against some investigations. You should take it easy, of course. But you are definitely allowed to use your brain.“

Sherlock didn’t say anything. He was insecure what to do. Only two days ago he had been so sure that it would be the best decision to terminate the pregnancy. Logically it still was. But now there was something he hadn’t thought about until now: his conscience. Was it fair not to give birth to the children? Because John was right - they were innocent in this whole horrible situation. They shouldn’t be the ones to pay for something others had done before. And the words of the Omega he had met in the waiting room had had an unexpected impact on him: not to be afraid of new life. Sherlock had to admit that these words had really moved him. 

„I don’t now which decision is the right one,“ Sherlock finally admitted. Dr. Gawen saw him struggling, his whole posture showing helplessness. She bent forward and put one hand onto Sherlock’s. He didn’t pull back and allowed the touch.   
„May I speak honestly?“ she asked.   
„Please. Beating about the bush is hateful.“   
„I think you are making a mistake, if you go for an abortion. You just told me you never wanted children. And I believe you. But you are reflecting over this for days now which shows me you wouldn’t get along with an abortion. Deciding against it takes much more courage, because there are other consequences. But think it through again. Try to be sure to minimize negative effects.“  
Sherlock looked at Dr. Gawen gratefully. „Thank you. For your time. And your honesty.“  
She smiled. „I can assure you my honesty has gotten me into much trouble before.“  
„Then we have something in common,“ Sherlock said and tried a little smile.  
„Sleep it over. Talk to your friend. I’m sure he would gladly support you.“  
„Of course he would.“ Sherlock got up and pulled his dressing gown over his belly. „Thank you.“  
„You’re welcome. See you soon, okay?“ They shook hands, before Sherlock left the office and made his way back to his ward. All his thoughts were constantly occupied with the conversation he just had. His steps became slower and slower, and he was glad when he arrived back in his room. He crawled into bed and curled up into a foetal position. It felt like a very heavy burden was crushing him. In the form of a responsibility he never had wanted. He was glad John wouldn’t be here for a few hours. 

Like he had done so many times before, Sherlock looked out of the window. First tears were starting to roll down his cheeks. He didn’t want to kill the children after all. They were living beings. They had a right to live. No matter how their life had begun. It wasn’t their fault. Sherlock groaned, when he realized that he seemed to have made his decision. He couldn’t end these lives. But another feeling mixed into the relief he just felt: fear of what was still to come. How should he be able to make it through the next weeks and months? He absolutely wanted to work again. That would help a lot. Sherlock calculated for a second. He would have to pull through roughly 22 weeks. Then the children would be born. And then… he would give them up. Keeping them was unthinkable for Sherlock. He was still convinced that he would never be able to raise children. He would ask Mycroft to find good parents for the babies. That would be the best for everybody. And the only option. It wouldn’t be easy. But he wouldn’t be able to act any other way. 

Sherlock lay awake the whole night and thought about his decision. Wasn’t it absurd to go through such a strain if he was to expect even more pain? But only for some brief moments he let himself get carried away by these thoughts. He felt he had no other choice but giving the babies up for adoption. For a moment he considered to call Mycroft so the adoption would just be a quick formality. But then he decided against it. He wanted to tell Mycroft face to face. His brother would surely declare him mad for not wanting an abortion. But if Mycroft loved him just a tiny bit (and no matter how complicated their relationship was, Sherlock was still sure about that), he would help him. 

In the early hours of morning Sherlock felt completely exhausted. The whole night through he had felt the movement of the children time and again. Just as if they had known about his train of thought. Actually sometime during the night Sherlock had started to caress his baby bump, curiously asking himself how big the children already were. And had chastised himself afterwards. It shouldn’t matter to him how big they were. If they were strong enough to make themselves be noticed, they would be big enough already. Who cares? All he was right now was an incubator for them until they were strong and big enough to live on their own. 

When the nurse knocked to wake him, Sherlock was nervous. He immediately wanted to tell Dr. Gawen about his decision. So he asked the nurse to get in touch with Dr. Gawen and tell her, he wanted to talk to her again. He was sure she would gladly stop by. And she did, just after the nurse had brought Sherlock’s breakfast. Sherlock wasn’t hungry. He just sipped his tea, when Dr. Gawen entered his room.

„Good morning, Mr. Holmes. Didn’t you sleep well? You look pale,“ she stated and shook hands with him. Then she pulled a chair close to his bed and sat down.   
„I didn’t sleep at all,“ Sherlock admitted. Then he took a deep breath. His heart was racing. Why was he so agitated?  
„Did you brood the whole night? You could have asked for something to get you to sleep. I offered you that much. No problem.“  
„No, it’s fine. I had to think. It was important to me. I… I took my decision. I’m gonna give birth to the children. But they can’t stay with me. I can’t keep them.“  
Dr. Gawen waited for a few moments before replying: „If you are content with this decision, then I’m going to support you. It’s very brave of you to choose this option. The pregnancy will be strenuous for you. And you will have to defend yourself for your decision. Our society is still not very tolerant when it comes to Omegas who want to give up their children.“

Sherlock nodded. „I know. But I can manage. I had to endure more than enough in my life so far.“  
„I can monitor the pregnancy on a regular basis, if you’d like. And of course you can give birth here.“  
„Thanks. That would be good. - What do you think about discharging me?“  
„I would like to examine you again. See, if everything’s still fine. I would have liked that, no matter what. If the colleagues don’t object, you can surely leave soon.“  
„Agreed.“  
„Okay. I have a lot of duties today, but I will call you for your exam in the afternoon.“  
Sherlock took a deep breath, then nodded. Dr. Gawen smiled. „I am glad you went for an adoption. See you later, then.“

Dr. Gawen had just gotten up, when there was a knock at the door and John entered.   
„Hello, Sherlock. Greetings from Mrs. Hudson. Oh, good morning.“ John offered his hand to Dr. Gawen.   
„Dr. Gawen. Good morning. I’m an andrologist. Mr. Holmes and I met on Wednesday.“ She shook John’s hand.   
„John Watson. Everything alright?“  
„Oh, yes. Just a little visit to clarify something. But I have to go, delivery room is calling. See you.“  
„Good luck at the delivery room…“ John smiled. Dr. Gawen left the room. John had brought a bag which he now put down on Sherlock’s night stand.   
„Mrs. Hudson made muffins. She told me to bring them to you.“ John took a can out of the bag and opened it. „Do you want one? You didn’t touch your breakfast.“  
„I’m not hungry at the moment.“  
John sat down next to Sherlock. 

„Are you alright?“ John asked concerned.   
Sherlock gathered himself for a moment, before he said: „Dr. Gawen was here because I wanted to tell her about my decision. Concerning the pregnancy.“  
John swallowed. „And?“  
Sherlock took a breath. „I’m giving birth to them, but I’m giving them up for adoption. It’s the best solution for everybody.“  
John just realized he had held his breath and now released it with a sigh.   
„Whow… Sherlock, that’s a very brave decision you made.“  
„I don’t know… right now… I’m terribly scared,“ he whispered.   
„I’m glad you decided this way. And I promise I will be there for you. I’ll help you. No matter what. You can count on me.“  
„Then better promise me you won’t try to change my mind. I’m not going to keep the children. My decision is final. I don’t want to become a murderer. But I want nothing to do with them.“  
John nodded. Of course he was relieved Sherlock had gone for the adoption. On the other hand it broke his heart, knowing that Sherlock didn’t want to give himself the chance to get to know his children. Maybe time would change his mind?  
„I’m not going to convince you otherwise. Promise.“  
„Thank you.“ Sherlock felt relieved, but there was still something on his mind. 

„John…. I’m sorry about yesterday. When I was so gruff.“  
„Why was that?“  
„Foetal movement. I can feel the babies,“ Sherlock explained. John understood immediately why Sherlock had been so upset and why he had reacted this way.   
„You could have said something instead of lashing out.“  
Sherlock avoided John’s gaze. He still felt bad about his behaviour.   
„I was completely overwhelmed,“ he admitted and added: „I am sorry.“  
„It’s okay. But next time just tell me what’s wrong. That’s what friends are for. Friends help each other.“

„Can I have a muffin?“ Sherlock asked, trying to change the subject. He didn’t know what else to say.   
„Sure. That’s why I brought them.“ John reached into the can and handed one of the muffins to Sherlock. Sherlock studied the pastry for a moment before he took a bite and sighed. This was so much better than the hospital meals. Private ward or not, the food was not to Sherlock’s liking. No matter how often John asked him to eat more - for the babies. Nothing tasted right. Now that Sherlock was feeling better, he was able to express this very clearly. But the muffin was good, and Sherlock was able to forget his depressing thoughts for a few minutes.


	13. Chapter 13

John had already had breakfast, but was not able to withstand the tempting muffins Mrs. Hudson had placed into his hands this morning. So he ate one, too. After Sherlock had thrown him out yesterday evening, John had gone to his bedsit. Seeking distraction, he had started to sort out his personal stuff, had written his resign to his flat and finally left for Baker Street with a case stuffed full of his belongings. Back at Baker Street he had occupied himself with dusting, made his own bed in his upstairs bedroom and finally went to bed. Of course finding sleep had been difficult. His concern for Sherlock’s wellbeing had kept him awake. He had fallen asleep very late, but had gotten out of bed early in the morning. He’d had breakfast at Speedy’s, but the fridge was already clean and running, so he could buy some groceries when ever he needed to. 

Meanwhile Sherlock had finished his muffin.   
„Want another one?“ John asked with a grin.   
Sherlock shook his head. Then he burst out: „I want to go home, John! There’s no need to stay here any longer. I’m not seriously injured, the wounds are healing well. I can do physiotherapy for the shoulder and the knee at home. And I’m absolutely not going to spend the rest of the pregnancy in hospital. I’m going mad here. Dr. Gawen said, she wants to do another ultrasound and then will probably agree to let me go home.“

John was surprised with this sudden change of subject. „That’s something the doctors of this clinic should decide.“  
„Then we’ll ask them,“ Sherlock stated, his voice firm. John hesitated. The ward round had been yesterday, today was Saturday. He wasn’t sure if someone would be here today, authorized to make such a decision. But at the same time it was clear to John, that if Sherlock absolutely wanted to go home, he would do just that.   
„I can ask the nurses if a senior physician will be here sometime today. Alright?“  
Sherlock nodded and looked at him in a challenging way.   
John got up with a small groan. He had clearly understood Sherlock and made his way to the nurse’s room. In fact a senior physician wanted to visit Sherlock again during the day. The nurses promised to tell him about Sherlock’s wish to be discharged. Sherlock had to wait until then. 

John was reading something for Sherlock, when the doctor showed up around eleven. The doctor hesitated and didn’t want to decide without Dr. Gawen’s consent. Sherlock got upset. Why was nobody here able to decide something? John had to interfere, before they had a real argument. After the doctor had left, Sherlock sulked for a while, until he fell asleep, while John was again reading for him. After lunch a nurse called him for another ultrasound with Dr. Gawen. John hesitated for a moment before asking Sherlock, if he could come with him. Sherlock didn’t object. 

And so after 15 minutes they found themselves in an examination room. Sherlock had to lie down and pull up his shirt. John was allowed to take a seat next to Sherlock. Sherlock stubbornly studied a crack in the wall next to the doorframe. He didn’t want to see the children. Seeing them would have made them more real for him, and he couldn’t stand that. Dr. Gawen moved the ultrasound wand over Sherlock’s belly, took some measurements and saved them. Finally she nodded. 

„Okay. Let’s tell you something about them, alright? Both twins are on the smaller side, but I’m sure they will catch up. Do you want to know the sex, Mr. Holmes?“  
„I don’t care about their sex,“ Sherlock replied quietly.   
„Fine,“ Dr. Gawen sighed and addressed John instead. 

„This is twin number one, lying diagonally at the moment. But that’s pretty normal. They have less space then a single child, but they will arrange themselves. Twin number one is in good shape. As I said, on the smaller side, but that’s no problem. And it’s a boy. You can clearly see the scrotum and the penis.“ Dr. Gawen moved the track ball on the ultrasound machine, until the cursor pointed at a certain area. And finally Sherlock turned to take a look, unable to fight his innate curiosity anymore. He gasped. The foetus moved at the same moment, and instead of the genital region a small foot with tiny toes appeared on the monitor.   
John laughed. „Seems like he isn’t fond of being looked between his legs.“  
„Yes, seems so. Let’s see if we can take a look at his face…“ It took a moment until Dr. Gawen was able to show the profile of the baby.   
„Looks just like your nose, Sherlock,“ John stated.   
„Don’t be absurd. All babies have this kind of nose.“  
„How would you know? You were never interested in babies.“  
„And you know why.“  
John didn’t comment the fact, that Sherlock was now intently watching the ultrasound.  
„Twin number two is in breech presentation at the moment, means the bottom is down. Let’s see… This is a girl, do you see it?“  
Sherlock took a look at his baby bump, covered in light blue gel. A boy and a girl… He had no clue what he would have to face. Nothing, in fact. But knowing he was expecting a son and a daughter… he swallowed. His mouth was dry. But he couldn’t turn away anymore. 

„The girl seems to be a little heavier and bigger. But just a little bit. Both are in good shape. Fine, we’re done.“  
„Could… could you try to take a look at the girl’s face, too?“ John asked a little shyly.  
„Oh, sure. But right now she’s looking at Mr. Holmes’s spine, so it could be difficult.“ She tried nontheless, but didn’t get a clear picture.   
„Sorry. Maybe next time. The position is not the best.“  
Dr. Gawen handed Sherlock a towel before cleaning the wand of the ultrasound machine. Then she began to type and finally printed two long strips of black and white ultrasound pictures. She handed one of them to Sherlock. „Two from each twin. For you.“  
Sherlock didn’t move to take the pictures.   
„I’ll take them,“ John said. He folded the strip up and shoved it into his trouser pocket. Sherlock had already sat up. Dr. Gawen took the towel back from him. 

„Fine. I don’t have any objections against a discharge. Maybe you rest another day and go home on Monday. That’s my suggestion. I’ll call the doctor in charge and tell him. Somebody will visit you again later, okay?“  
Sherlock nodded. He pulled his pyjama over his baby bump. That sounded good. He could make it through one last day.   
„Good. I won’t be here for the rest of the weekend. But don’t hesitate to call for a colleague if you feel the need to. I’m back on Monday. And as I said: I’ll be there for you even after your discharge. You can get into contact via our office.“ She got up. „If we don’t see each other before your discharge: All the best for you, Mr. Holmes.“ She shook Sherlock’s hand and and said goodbye.

John and Sherlock went back to his room. John took the pictures out of his pocket before sitting down again in his armchair. He put the pictures into one of his books to keep them safe. If these pictures were all Sherlock would have left from his babies, then John would take good care of them. Sherlock couldn’t miss what John did. He didn’t know what to make of it. He shouldn’t care. If John wanted to keep the pictures - fine. Sherlock was determined not to get sentimental. He wouldn’t make this mistake. He would remain rational. 

Sherlock sighed and rolled himself in his bed so could look out of the window. Like so many times before. Wished himself home. Wished he would be able to wake from this nightmare until it became really bad. But this nightmare was his life, and he couldn’t wake up… John’s voice reached him through his dark musings, when John started to read to him. Sherlock didn’t know why he didn’t want to read himself. Maybe it was a lack of strength and interest. He preferred to listen to John. To enjoy the well known sound of John’s voice and to forget everything else.

John saw a little smile playing over Sherlock’s lips, while he was reading to him - and Sherlock was occupied looking out of the window. This was still his preferred occupation: looking out of the window. Of course John had noticed this pattern, even back then in Serbia. John had experienced many of Sherlock’s moods since moving in with him. For example when Sherlock was bored, sulked or was in his mind palace. This was different, though. Maybe Sherlock still lacked the strength. He wasn’t interested in watching the telly, either. No matter which program John tried. There was a little sound system in a corner of Sherlock’s room. John had considered to bring some of Sherlock’s CDs from his little and exclusive collection. But he didn’t, because it was all classical music, mostly violin concertos. Sherlock wasn’t able to play the violin, yet, and wouldn’t be for a while. His fingers and shoulder were still sore and healing. John didn’t want Sherlock to be sad about these facts. If Sherlock wanted to listen to some music, once they were home, he would. Right now he was still difficult for John to judge. 

When Sherlock fell asleep again, John left for a little walk. He paused at the nurse’s room and was able to catch one of the ward physicians. So he could finally ask, when Sherlock could be discharged. Dr. Gawen had already informed the colleagues that she had no objections. The doctor took a look at Sherlock’s file and mentioned a last change of the bandages and dressings for tomorrow. If the wounds were healing well, Sherlock was allowed to go home on Monday. 

John felt relieved about this information, but was also well aware that all the responsibility for Sherlock’s ongoing treatment would be his to bear. But he would have to come to terms with it. He rang Mycroft Holmes, to tell him about Sherlock’s discharge. When Mycroft asked about the pregnancy, John just answered: „Sherlock will explain everything to you.“ Mycroft wasn’t very happy about this, but John didn’t say no more about the subject. 

Sherlock was more than relieved about the news that he would be discharged on Monday. The last change of his bandages hadn’t been that horrible, and so he was confident that the last one would be even easier. He sent John home in the evening to prepare the flat for his return. So John said goodbye in the early evening to once again visit his bedsit and collect a few more things. He got two boxes to continue packing and went back to Baker Street in a cab, taking the two boxes full of his stuff with him. He spent the rest of the evening cleaning, washing and arranging everything for Sherlock’s return.

„Good evening, Sherlock.“  
Sherlock glared at his brother. He was clearly not in the mood for late evening visits from Mycroft and wished for a second, he hadn’t sent John home. He would had loved to yell at him and throw him out, but bit his lip. He shouldn’t offend Mycroft. He needed his help. And of course he knew why Mycroft was here. He looked his brother over. In fact, Mycroft looked uncomfortable. He twisted his umbrella in a way that told Sherlock everything he needed to know about his state of mind.   
„How are you today?“ Mycroft asked.  
Sherlock snorted instead of answering.  
„May I take a seat?“  
„I can’t stop you, can I?“ Sherlock answered with a growl. Mycroft placed his umbrella next to Sherlock’s nightstand. Then he moved a chair next to Sherlock’s bed, keeping significantly more distance than John normally did.   
„Dr. Watson told me you’re to be discharged?“  
„Yes. Monday. Personally I would had left already. But the bandages will be changed a last time tomorrow. And the andrologist examined me today once again.“  
„And your decision? Dr. Watson didn’t want to tell my anything about it. Are you terminating the pregnancy?“  
Sherlock swallowed hard. Why was it so difficult to speak to Mycroft about the subject? Because he was an Alpha? Because he was his big brother?  
„No. No abortion. But… an adoption. As soon as they are born, someone shall take them. I don’t want to see them.“ Sherlock’s face was blank. His too prominent cheekbones and his eyes deep in their sockets made him look haggard and so, so tired.

Mycroft didn’t reply anything, he just looked at Sherlock.  
„Oh don’t look at me like that! I know it would be better not to carry them to term. But…“ Sherlock swallowed again. „I can’t do that. I can’t kill them.“  
„Dr. Watson talked you into that,“ Mycroft stated.   
„John didn’t talk me into anything! But… I’m five months pregnant, Mycroft! And I… I can feel them moving. And I saw them today during the ultrasound. I saw them move, saw their hearts beating, how big they already are. It would be murder to get rid of them. I can’t do that!“  
„This would mean you have to spend another four months to… to carry them to term and give birth to them at the end. Are you really clear about the consequences for you? You’re an Omega, Sherlock. If these children are born, it won’t be that easy for you to give them up.“  
„Yes, it will. There is nothing I have to offer them. As soon as they’re born they’ll get proper parents. Parents that earn such a name. Parents who don’t know how they were conceived. And therefore they’ll be able to love them.“

„Are you even aware how much your Omega is showing right now? I feared you wouldn’t go with an abortion. Your instincts don’t allow you to. Not even in your situation. But every day you feel them growing, you feel a little more close and form a bond with them. I don’t want you to feel too much for them. The separation would be even worse.“  
„So better kill them? Put a needle in their chest and inject potassium chloride directly into their heart? No, Mycroft! Even you can’t be that cruel!“  
Mycroft sighed. „Well then. It’s your choice. You say, you will carry them to term. Then I’ll take care of everything else and will find good parents for them.“  
„That’s all I want,“ Sherlock murmured.   
„Agreed. What’s Dr. Watson’s opinion?“  
„He says it’s my decision. But it’s obvious he would be happy if we kept the children.“  
„What did you expect? He’s an empty Omega. His instincts are fully functioning. Of course he would have wanted children. You can’t hold that against him.“  
„I don’t hold anything against John!“ Sherlock snarled, „He was the one who constantly stayed with me the last days! In contrast to other people!“  
„If you’re speaking about me - don’t be absurd. You would never have wanted me here. And I can’t help you like Dr. Watson can. So don’t be upset. Where is your good doctor, anyway?“  
„What do you think? Preparing the flat for my return.“  
„So he’s moving back in with you,“ Mycroft stated.   
„Of course he is!“  
„Well, that may be for the best. So there’s always someone to have an eye on you. I think you will question your own decision often enough in the next months.“  
„Oh, that’s what you think.“  
„I know you, Sherlock. The pregnancy is going to hinder you more than you expect now. You don’t really want to investigate for DI Lestrade again in this condition?“  
„If he consults me - why not? I’m just pregnant. Still a little tired, but not at the brink of death.“  
Mycroft raised an eyebrow. „It’s your choice if you want to put yourself into such a position. There’s only a handful of people right now who know about your second gender. When you show up at Scotland Yard in this condition, your secret is no longer a secret. And you will have to justify yourself against everybody.“  
„Who says that? I don’t have to justify anything to anybody. Not even you. All I want from you is to speed up the adoption process.“  
„I’ll do my best,“ Mycroft smiled. Then he got up.   
„Good night. If you need something…“  
Sherlock made a dismissive gesture. „Yes, yes… Now let me sleep. I’m still in convalescence.“   
Mycroft could’t suppress a laugh. „You always choose everything as you please.“ Then he nodded at him once again and left. 

Sherlock sighed. It was clear that Mycroft had the same thoughts like Sherlock: that only mockery and derision would be waiting for him at the Yard - if not worse. Well… They all thought he was a freak. So it would surprise no one, if you suddenly showed up pregnant, but would end up without his offspring in the end. If Sherlock was honest with himself, he was horrified of his first visit to Scotland Yard. And apart from that, he still had to get into contact with Greg Lestrade and let him know he was still alive. But this point was still out of reach, and Sherlock had to admit he wasn’t quite ready yet.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delay! But I was on holiday for a week and had surgery immediately after. I'm fine now, but still recovering. 
> 
> So here's the next chapter. Thank you for every kudo and comment! I love to hear from you, no matter how long or short your comments are!

Finally - Monday. The changing of the dressings and bandages yesterday hadn’t been that bad. The doctors were content with the healing process. Sherlock and John got a load of papers, reports and a little stock of bandages to take home. John called Mycroft and confirmed Sherlock’s discharge and that they would be allowed to go home later in the morning. Mycroft promised to send his personal chauffeur and his car. The chauffeur came directly up to Sherlock’s room. Sherlock had been anticipating him urgently and was desperate to leave the hospital. 

During the ride to Baker Street Sherlock’s fingers drummed a steady rhythm on his knees, until they finally arrived in front of 221 B. Sherlock blinked against unwanted tears, when the car stopped right before the black door. He swallowed hard, and he breathed more rapidly. John turned to him, smiling. Sherlock was restless in the back of the car. John reached over to unbuckle both their seatbelts. He opened the door. The chauffeur had stopped the car as close to the pavement as possible, so Sherlock could easily get out of the car. John got out first and went around the car to help Sherlock. The chauffeur had gotten out, too. He had opened the door for Sherlock and was now retrieving their bags from the boot of the car.

„Do you need help, Dr. Watson?“ he asked.   
„If you could carry the bags inside?“ John asked and helped Sherlock out of the car. He put an arm around his middle, although Sherlock didn’t really need his support anymore. But Sherlock allowed it, the touch giving him safety.   
„Is Mrs. Hudson in?“ Sherlock asked quietly.   
„No, she’s visiting Mrs. Turner next door. I asked her to leave you alone for today, so you can rest. Are you okay with that?“  
Sherlock nodded. He and John went towards the door. John opened it.   
„Welcome home,“ he said and lead Sherlock into the house. The chauffeur followed them and put the bags down.   
„Your flat is upstairs, right? Shall I help you up the stairs?“  
John looked at Sherlock, but Sherlock shook his head. „I can manage. Tell my brother I thank him.“  
„Of course. Get well soon, sir.“  
John would have been grateful for a little help. But if Sherlock didn’t want any, he wouldn’t force it onto him. The chauffeur left them alone. John sighed, when he looked at the stairs.   
„17 steps. Are you sure?“  
„I can manage. We can take a break on the landing.“ Sherlock sounded much more confident than he really felt. He looked around the hallway. The well known smell was like a comforting veil. He recognized all the little details that had never been important before: the structure of the green wallpaper on one side of the hallway, the floral pattern on the other side, the light grey carpet (and what a stupid idea this really was: a light grey carpet in the hallway), the circular mirror above the little white fireplace, where Mrs. Hudson always placed the mail for them, the small armchair next to the stairs with the small shelf above and the little porcelain collectibles on it - Sherlock knew all of this. But it felt like he was seeing everything for the very first time. And it filled his heart with relief and the wonderful feeling to finally be home.   
„Well,“ John sighed the same moment and disturbed Sherlock’s contemplation, „Let’s get started.“

In fact John and Sherlock had to stop on the landing, before Sherlock was able to take the last stairs. But they managed better than John had hoped.  
„Do you want to go to bed?“ John asked, when he opened the door to the living room.   
„No. Sofa,“ Sherlock commanded. John would have liked it more, if Sherlock had in fact chosen his bed. But he knew Sherlock had to really come home, and so he said nothing. Sherlock groaned, when he sat down on the sofa.   
„Tea?“ John asked. Sherlock looked up to him and nodded. John went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. 

Sherlock listened to all the little, well known sounds and could practically see John during this ordinary task he had done hundreds of times during their time together. Just like in the hallway, Sherlock’s gaze wandered around the living room of his home. How much he had wished himself back here… Not everything was like he remembered. The flat was tidier than Sherlock had left it. The desk was all but empty, just like the coffee table and his music stand. Sherlock could see the knife on the mantlepiece, with which he had always stabbed his mail. It still stuck in the wood, but the mantlepiece was empty except for the skull. All his books were still there, his pictures, the smilie on the wall behind him, decorated with bullet holes - he could see it in the mirror over the fireplace. Sherlock’s vision blurred, when once again tears filled his eyes. He was home…

When John came back to him, two mugs of tea in his hands, he saw the tears on Sherlock’s face.   
„Hey…,“ he said gently. He put the tea down onto the coffee table and sat next to Sherlock. It was not difficult to imagine what was going on in his friend. Sherlock rubbed a hand over his face.   
„I’m sorry…“ he murmured.  
John shook his head. „Don’t.“ He put a hand on Sherlock’s thigh. Sherlock’s shoulders dropped, he avoided John’s gaze. But John saw the tears dripping from Sherlock’s chin. He knew all too well, what he’s friend felt at the moment. Eventually Sherlock gently laid his hand on John’s. They sat like this for a long time, while the tea went cold. Until Sherlock finally resolutely wiped the tears from his face. 

„You know me. I’m not like that,“ Sherlock said, his voice hoarse.   
„It’s okay. This was all pretty much. And the pregnancy influences your moods. Everything totally understandable and normal.“  
„I don’t think I like that…“  
John handed Sherlock his tea mug. „I understand. But it’s not forever. Here…“  
Sherlock took the mug and slowly drank the lukewarm tea. When he handed the mug back to John, he looked a little more composed.  
„There’s a box in the kitchen with your name on it. Shall I take a look?“ John asked. The box hadn’t been here in the morning. Sherlock just nodded. John got up and brought the box from the kitchen. It wasn’t heavy, and he carried it into the living room and sat it down onto the coffee table. He opened the box.   
„Oh… must be from your brother. A mobile phone…“ John reached inside the box and handed Sherlock a brand new mobile phone.   
„A laptop. Looks new, too. And your violin case.“  
Sherlock looked up. His violin… He hadn’t played in such a long time… And he wouldn’t for a while longer. Not before all his injuries were properly healed. He was desperate to take the violin out of its case, to tune it, to prepare the bow, to feel the strings under his fingertips, to feel the well known weight of his violin on his shoulder… Instead he switched on his new mobile.   
„Newest model, hm?“ John grinned.   
„Hm…“ Sherlock’s fingertips still hurt a little, while he scrolled through the menu. He scowled at his dark blue fingernails. The first one started to peel off at two different places. 

John left Sherlock alone to play with his new mobile. He placed the violin onto the desk, put his new laptop next to it and went to prepare lunch.

The didn’t talk much throughout the day. They unconsciously both pretended nothing had happened. They both knew, this illusion they both succumbed to at the moment wouldn’t last long. But they were both content for now to find themselves back in old rituals. They would have to face their problems soon enough.

„Are you serious, John?“ Sherlock asked in the evening after he had laid down in his bed. John settled down into his armchair which he had brought in here yesterday - swearing a lot, because the damn thing had been heavier than he thought and hadn’t been very cooperative. But now the ratty armchair with the Union Jack pillow on it stood left next to the end of Sherlock’s bed, so John was able to prop his feet up onto the mattress.   
„I’m very serious. If you need something during the night, I want to be there for you. Immediately.“  
„You already slept for days first on a chair, then in an armchair.“  
„I’m a soldier. I slept in worse circumstances. So please stop worrying about me. I’m fine here.“ John pulled his blanket up and cast a smile in Sherlock’s direction.  
Sherlock sighed. „Have you always been that stubborn?“  
„You can’t always claim the negative characteristics for yourself.“  
Sherlock sank deeper into his pillows, smiling. „Shall I turn off the light?“  
„Yes, I’m knackered.“  
Sherlock reached for his bedside lamp and switched it off. John listened to Sherlock rustling with his duvet. John had placed his armchair in a 90 degree angle so he wasn’t directly facing Sherlock. He didn’t want Sherlock to feel watched or controlled, but safe. Of course he knew this sleeping arrangement couldn’t and shouldn’t be permanent. John had taken it as a good sign that Sherlock had spent some nights in hospital without having a nightmare. But at the same time he didn’t fool himself that everything would be alright by itself. Sherlock had been tortured. Nobody could live on as if that had never happened. Not even Sherlock Holmes. John reminded himself to talk to Sherlock again and try to convince him to go see a therapist before the situation could escalate. What if Sherlock one day reached a point where he wouldn’t be able to cope anymore? John was really worried about this moment. But for now he would be content if Sherlock could sleep through the night.

Some time during the night John heard Sherlock become agitated, but he didn’t wake up. And John didn’t have the heart to wake him. Every night Sherlock could sleep without waking up, was progress. But Sherlock woke early. It was as if he couldn’t wait to go back to his regular life in Baker Street. After breakfast he immersed himself with his new laptop and completely forgot the time. John occupied himself with the mundane tasks of every day life which he had to get used to again, too. 

Finally they both heard the familiar footsteps of their landlady on the stairs. Sherlock, who had been sitting on the sofa with his laptop in his lap, closed it now and placed it onto the table. There was already a knock at the door, and then Mrs. Hudson opened the door to the living room. She peered through the cracked door, saw Sherlock and immediately had tears in her eyes. 

„May I come in?“ she asked tentatively.   
Sherlock smiled. „Of course, Mrs. Hudson.“  
She entered the living room, a plate with cookies in her hand. „I thought maybe you would like something sweet…“  
John, who had done the washing up in the kitchen, peered round the corner.   
„Hello, Mrs. Hudson,“ he greeted.  
„John, hello. I just wanted to see if Sherlock’s alright…“  
She came to the sofa and put the plate onto the coffee table. Sherlock looked up at her.   
„Oh Sherlock, my dear boy…“ Mrs. Hudson sank down onto the sofa next to him, lifted a hand and placed it very gently onto his cheek.   
„What have they done to you…“ she whispered.   
„Doesn’t count anymore. I’m back home.“  
Tears started to roll down Mrs. Hudson’s cheeks. „I’m sorry… silly old me… I shouldn’t cry. Not when I’m so glad you’re back.“

She started to dab away the tears with a handkerchief. „You are so horribly thin, Sherlock. I know I’m just your landlady, but let me help you so you’ll gain your strength back in no time.“  
„John has a look on it. He’ll make sure I’ll be alright, soon.“  
„Well, a little support on top won’t hurt, will it?“  
„I suppose not. And I’m not as good in baking as you are, Mrs. Hudson,“ John said from the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson’s gaze lingered for a moment on Sherlock’s baby bump. John had already told her about Sherlock’s plans for an adoption. She wasn’t sure, yet, what to think about it. On the one hand she couldn’t imagine two children living in this flat. But on the other hand she was sad that she would never get to know Sherlock’s children. She put her handkerchief away and took Sherlock’s hand.  
„What ever you need, Sherlock. You just tell me. Yes? And you, John, you take good care of him. Do you understand?“  
John couldn’t suppress a smile. „Promise.“  
„I’ll make you a nice lunch.“ With these words Mrs. Hudson got up.   
„But I already did the shopping!“ John objected, but Mrs. Hudson just looked at him, while she went towards the door. And with that the discussion had been ended before it had even begun. 

Mrs. Hudson was always doing good home-style cooking, and both John and Sherlock were used to that. On more than one occasion she had cooked more than necessary for herself and had brought some of the food upstairs for her favorite tenants. Sherlock had seldom complained about food from Mrs. Hudson. And so he ate the stew she made for them without grumbling. Mrs. Hudson had made enough for the following day. And even John had to admit, that Mrs. Hudson was a good cook. His pasta dish would have to wait until the day after tomorrow. He put the meat into the ice box and decided to make the salad for dinner. Unlikely Sherlock would be enthusiastic about it, but John could live with that. 

John’s mobile rang in the afternoon. He sighed, when he recognized the number.   
„My brother doesn’t answer his phone. Is everything alright, Dr. Watson?“ Mycroft Holmes asked. And John was able to hear real worry in his voice.   
„He’s asleep in his bedroom. Do you want me to tell him something?“  
„I didn’t want to ignore him on this matter, so… Our parents want to see Sherlock. Please ask him, when he feels prepared for a visit and get back to me, will you?“  
John sighed. „Of course… I’ll ask him, once he’s awake. Anything else you want me to tell him?“  
Mycroft seemed to hesitate for a second. But then he said: „No. Just ask him, when a visit is convenient for him.“  
„Thanks, by the way. For the mobile and the laptop. The violin… will have to wait for a while longer. He can’t play it, yet.“  
„I’m aware of that. But I just wanted him to have it back. I’ll await your call, Dr. Watson.“  
„Yes. Bye,“ John sighed. He wasn’t sure what Sherlock would think about his brother’s request. But he would ask him nonetheless. 

„Why is he always ignoring my requests?!“ Sherlock fumed after John had told him about Mycroft’s call. John had known beforehand, that Sherlock would be upset about Mycroft’s meddling.   
„I don’t think he wants to ignore your requests. I can imagine that your parents want to see you. They are worried about you.“  
„Unnecessary. I’m fine.“  
„That’s something parents always want to check for themselves.“  
„I don’t want them to see me like this!“ Sherlock would have loved to jump up from his spot on the sofa, but he was still to unwell for sudden outbursts of energy. Besides, the physiotherapist had made some exercises with Sherlock today that had exhausted him. Of course the therapist had been hired by Mycroft. But Sherlock had joined in the exercises and promised to repeat them daily. A sure sign for John, that Sherlock was already bored and glad about every distraction. And Sherlock himself had realized how much he would need professional assistance, if he wanted to gain his strength and mobility back as soon as possible. Because he was still lacking both, he chose to cross his arms across his chest and pout. 

„Why not? It’s your parents. What’s so bad about a visit?“ John asked. He had been glad, if his own parents had been still alive. Sherlock didn’t answer.   
„Sherlock - tell me why you don’t want them to visit you. Explain it to me. Then I will explain it to Mycroft. He will demand an explanation, you know that.“  
„He knows why. I don’t have to explain anything to you what Mycroft already knows very well!“  
John knew, when Sherlock wouldn’t tell him anything more. They had just reached this point. It was probably something from Sherlock’s sometimes still mysterious past he didn’t want to talk about. John had no other choice but accept Sherlock’s refusal. 

„What do you want me to tell him?“  
Sherlock snorted, but deigned to answer him. „Alright. Tell him, they can visit. In a few days.“  
„How about Friday?“  
Sherlock made a dismissive gesture.   
John sighed. „Is that a yes?“ he asked.   
Sherlock sank back against the backrest of the sofa and produced his mobile out of the pocket of his dressing gown. He didn’t answer anymore. John waited for another moment. When Sherlock solely focussed on the display of his mobile, John gave up. He wrote a text to Mycroft.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to celebrate! The story has exactly 100 kudos now! 
> 
> Thank you so much! I know, my translation is awful. So I'm even more grateful for your positive response. And thanks to everyone who comments - every single word is very much appreciated! 
> 
> I hope to see you all back next year. Happy 2019!

On Thursday evening John made himself comfortable again in his armchair next to Sherlock's bed - just like the two nights prior - when Sherlock came in from the bathroom. He gave him a reproachful look.  
„That’s ridiculous, John. You can’t sleep in this armchair every night,“ he said and let his dressing gown slide from his shoulders.   
„Obviously I can,“ John replied with a grin. He was holding a crime novel, and Sherlock looked at the cover.   
„The ex-husband is the killer,“ he succinctly stated while he slid under his duvet.  
„Sherlock! You can’t know that from just looking at the cover!“ John protested loudly.   
Sherlock smiled. „Are you sure?“  
„I’ll kill you, if you’re right…“ John mumbled.   
„Seriously, John: You don’t have to sleep in that bloody armchair. My bed is large enough for both of us.“  
John opened his mouth to reply something, but closed it again and licked his lips.   
„You… you mean…“  
„Of course. I’m only offering.“ In fact Sherlock slid to the right side of his bed now.  
„Are you sure? I don’t want to get to close to you after all you went through.“ John’s words were cautious, but they both knew, what he meant.   
„I trust you,“ Sherlock just said quietly and looked at John. He had already snuggled into his pillow. John swallowed. Sherlock’s words were touching. And he wanted to prove himself worthy of Sherlock’s trust. It was still out of the question to let Sherlock sleep alone. Last night Sherlock woke around three o’clock, crying, and had needed more than an hour until he had been able to fall asleep again.

„Then I accept your offer.“ John pushed the armchair aside and put his pillow next to Sherlock’s.   
„Is it okay, if I read a bit longer? Even when you already told me the solution?“  
Sherlock smiled. „No, go on. Although you could spare yourself the time, now.“  
„You are unbelievable,“ John grinned and got into bed next to Sherlock. He thumped his pillow into the right shape, leaned back against the headboard and began to read. Sherlock laid on his side, his face towards John and closed his eyes now.  
„Good night…“ he murmured.   
„Night, Sherlock.“  
John immersed himself into his crime novel. And was startled, when Sherlock spoke again after 15 minutes: „By the way, I’m right with the solution for your novel. I read a review to your book.“  
John cast a glance at his friend, who laid beside him, eyes closed, a little smile on his face. „Well, thanks a lot. I’m turning off the light. Sleep well.“

When Sherlock woke the next morning, it was the first time in days that he felt rested enough. He still had his eyes closed, but felt John’s warmth next to him. He sighed silently and made a mental check-up, just like every morning. The pain was by now not worth mentioning anymore. John was next to him, lying a little askew, his head close to Sherlock, face turned towards him. John’s breath ghosted over Sherlocks hair, because Sherlock’s head was really close to John’s neck. And John’s hand laid on Sherlock’s, which was trapped between their bodies. Sherlock became aware of that the same moment, and he was a little startled. But this was John, his best friend, the man he had trusted with his life - and had already more than once. 

Sherlock asked himself if he had given John anything back that would make up for everything he so gladly offered. Was John even aware, how much he had done for Sherlock? Sherlock’s fingers twitched beneath John’s. How much he wanted to take John’s hand now… But was he allowed? Would John want that? Or would he interpret it the wrong way? But right know Sherlock didn’t give a damn to his concerns. Besides, John was still sound asleep. Sherlock slowly turned his hand, curled his fingers around John’s and closed his eyes again. He felt so safe and secure in this cocoon made of warmth and the proximity to John, that he just wanted to enjoy this feeling a little bit longer. 

In fact Sherlock dozed off again. It was John, who woke first. Because Sherlock’s head had moved even closer, and Sherlock’s hair was tickling John’s chin. John smiled, when he became aware, that they both had slept safe and sound the whole night. And how close they were right now. John fought his impulse to plant a kiss into the still too short curls. He mustn’t, if he didn’t want to break Sherlock’s trust into him. Sherlock was his friend. His best friend. His friend, who had been tortured and raped in Serbia. Maybe he would never fully recover mentally from this experience. Even more so, because he had never had a physical relationship before. Even Mrs. Hudson didn’t know if Sherlock ever had a girlfriend or a boyfriend. And after everything he had been through, it would be a miracle if Sherlock would want or be able to seek a relationship. That made John incredibly sad. All he wished for for his friend was to be happy. But if he got too close now, he feared Sherlock would retreat from him as far as he could. And he would never want that to happen. 

John told himself that his impulse to get physically close to Sherlock was caused by the months apart and his grief. He wasn’t sure anyway what exactly he felt for Sherlock. It was a special kind of love he felt. Nothing compared to a normal friendship. But nothing compared to the infatuation John had of course felt for other people before. He sighed. Feelings were always difficult. And when they were reflected onto your best friend, they were even worse. 

Sherlock close to him started to move, took a deep breath and then yawned aloud. John smiled. He was glad Sherlock had gotten a good night’s sleep.  
„Good morning,“ he hummed. Sherlock mumbled something incomprehensible, before he rolled onto his back with a groan.  
„Are you alright?“ John asked.  
„Hm.. it’s pounding…“  
„Pounding?“ John asked at a loss.   
„In my belly.“  
„Oh… the babies?“  
„Are quite agitated right now. And I have to use the loo.“  
John chuckled. „At least you slept the whole night, didn’t you?“  
„Yes.“ Sherlock pushed himself upright and stretched his long limbs as best as he could. „Is my doctor finally giving me permission to take a shower?“ he asked and suddenly sounded wide awake.   
„Yes. A short one, not too hot. I can check on your wounds after it.“  
Sherlock slid to the side of the bed. „But I’m allowed to wash myself on my own?“  
„Of course. You’re not a child. Call me, when you’re ready or if you need my help.“  
Sherlock nodded. He got out of bed, grabbed some clean clothes and went into the bathroom. John stayed in bed for a few minutes longer, enjoyed the warmth and let the thoughts about the day slowly come up. Sherlock’s parents would be coming today. John just hoped this visit wouldn’t be too much for Sherlock. He had never met Sherlock’s parents before. They hadn’t attended Sherlock’s „funeral“. And now John knew the reason for it. When John heard the shower running, he got up with a sigh. He wanted to prepare the table for breakfast and listened for the sounds from next door. When Sherlock called him, John grabbed his bag and knocked.

„Just come in. Nothing you haven’t seen before.“  
John smiled. This statement was typically Sherlock. His friend stood in front of the sink, a towel around his hips. He had already removed bandages and plasters where he had been able to reach. John silently took care of the rest on Sherlock’s back. He gently dried his skin. „Please turn into the light.“  
Without many words John examined the wounds. Most of them were healing well. He put some ointment to some of them, put some plasters back on and only needed to protect one part with some gauze.   
„Looks good. How are your shoulder and your knee?“ John took Sherlock’s arm and gently moved it. „Don’t tense up, Sherlock.“  
„Ow, that hurts,“ Sherlock protested.   
„You really have to do your excercises on a regular basis.“  
„Boring.“  
„I know, but they are necessary. Or do you want the shoulder or the knee to remain stiff?“  
„No…“ Sherlock shrugged off John’s hands and loosened the towel from his hips. He tossed it onto the hamper and reached for his pants.   
John turned around. He started to collect the used bandages. „You need anything?“  
Sherlock already shimmied into his pyjama bottoms and pulled on a t-shirt before slipping on his dressing gown.   
„Thank you, John,“ he murmured.   
„You’re welcome. I… take a quick shower, then I’ll make us breakfast.“  
Sherlock nodded and left the bathroom

It was a quiet day. After breakfast Sherlock spent the day on the sofa and grew more and more nervous. John insisted, Sherlock ate something for lunch, even though Sherlock wasn’t hungry at all. After lunch he returned to his place on the sofa. John didn’t want to admit it, but he, too, was nervous while they were waiting for Sherlock’s parents to arrive. When the doorbell rang in the afternoon, John paused on his way to the door.   
„If it get’s too much, just tell me. Don’t be considerate of anything. Okay?“  
Sherlock barely looked up, but nodded. He wasn’t able to show his gratitude for John’s words. His heart was racing, while John went downstairs to the front door. Mycroft introduced everybody, before they all went upstairs. 

„Sherlock! Oh my darling…“ Violet Holmes rushed past John and Mycroft, when she saw Sherlock still lying on the sofa. Sherlock sat up now and put his feet down to the floor. Violet already sat down next to him and pulled him close. Sherlock had never been one for hugs and physical demonstrations of affection. But at this moment he surprised himself: he succumbed to his feelings. 

„Mummy…“ he whispered into his mother’s shoulder. He put his arms around her and began to cry. He couldn’t help it. The tears started to flow freely. Violet Holmes gently held her youngest. While he sobbed into her shoulder, Violet murmured into his ear and gently and lovingly stroked his back. Sherlock’s father Siger joined them now, too.   
„My boy…“, he choked. Sherlock looked up for a moment and into his father’s eyes, which were so similar to his own. He reached out for him. Siger took his hand and sat down next to them. He put an arm around his son and embraced both Violet and Sherlock. 

Awkwardly John looked down to the floor under his feet. He didn’t want to disturb such an intimate moment and turned towards the kitchen. While doing this, he cast a glance at Mycroft, who stood next to him, frozen, and pretended to look out of the window.   
John hesitated for a second, then he nudged Mycroft in the ribs. Mycroft’s cool, blue eyes met his. He looked indignantly at John, who now made a gesture towards the kitchen. After a moment’s hesitation Mycroft followed John into the kitchen. John pulled the doors nearly closed.   
„Tea?“, he simply asked.   
Mycroft sighed. „Yes, thank you.“  
„Take a seat.“  
While John began to prepare a large pot of tea, Mycroft sat on one of the kitchen chairs, back rigid. They could both hear the voices of Sherlock and his parents from the living room. 

„Your mother is an Omega,“ John stated.   
„Of course.“  
John snorted. „However, she is… special, is she? Sherlock was allowed to study chemistry, even though he’s an Omega.“  
„My mother is a mathematician, Dr. Watson. She was a pioneer in her course of studies. My father has always supported her. And when Sherlock insisted he wanted to enroll in chemistry, father supported him, as well. In unison with our mother.“  
John could clearly hear it: The older Holmes didn’t seem to be happy about it.   
„You had objections,“ John said. He opened one of the cupboards in search of matching teacups.   
Mycroft sounded his usual, arrogant self, when he said: „Our society has very specific opinions, and not all are wrong. Male Omegas… I know I sound arrogant now, but I really believe that Sherlock could have made himself his life much easier. If he had chosen a bond mate, a responsible Alpha, who cared for him. Maybe he hadn’t taken to drugs. He was not happy with the life he has chosen.“

„Do you really believe that?“ John turned around, clearly upset. Mycroft looked at him, his face calm and unreadable.   
„Sherlock is the most extraordinary Omega I have ever met in my life. How can you believe even for a second, that a bond with an Alpha had made him happy? With his intellect? His independence? I don’t know enough about Sherlock’s decision to try to get rid of his Omega nature. But I know he would never have been happy in a relationship you would have wanted for him.“  
„You have never seen my brother when I had to pull him out of a doss house. That was the lowest point of his life. Despite all our efforts he had relapses. Since he presented as an Omega I’ve never seen him happy and at ease anymore. I always tried to protect him. Most of all of himself.“  
„And I do believe you. But you haven’t been very successful.“  
Mycroft pressed his lips together and didn’t respond. Not a good sign. So John decided to drop the topic. Fighting with Mycroft would end in a disaster. He wanted to spare Sherlock this stress. He occupied himself with the tea, while Mycroft sat silently on his chair. 

Just as the tea was ready, Siger Holmes opened one part of the sliding doors and peered inside the kitchen.   
„Here you are,“ he said looking at his oldest son. Mycroft looked up. „Where else would I be? As you can see, Dr. Watson just made tea.“  
„Very good. Can I already have a cup for my wife?“  
„Oh, I… I’ll be with you within a few moments. Please go back to Sherlock. I’m sure it’s good for him that you’re both here,“ John said and smiled.   
„Thank you, Dr. Watson,“ Siger replied quietly and turned around. John fetched a tray they rarely used, and started to collect everything he needed.   
„Would you please take the teapot?“ John asked Mycroft, took the tray and followed Sherlock’s father back into the living room. 

Violet Holmes still sat next to Sherlock, one arm around her son’s shoulders. Sherlock, obviously tired from crying, leaned against her. John placed the tray onto the coffee table. Violet, although so many years older, looked radiant compared to Sherlock. Sherlock’s eyes were red rimmed and a little puffy. His face was pale, and his skin was still showing some last remnants of his injuries. His baby bump was clearly visible beneath his dressing gown.   
„Thank you, Dr. Watson. Sherlock - you’re having a cuppa, too, yes?“ Violet said gently. Sherlock nodded. John prepared the table and filled the teacups. For a moment there was only the sound of spoons, stirring sugar into tea, filling the living room. Violet gave a generous splash of milk into one of the cups and handed it to Sherlock.   
„Here, darling. Have some tea.“  
Sherlock sighed. But he took the cup with slightly trembling hands and sipped the strong sweet tea. John saw how exhausted Sherlock already was. But he didn’t want to interfere before Sherlock gave a sign of real discomfort. Violet observed him to make sure he didn’t drop his cup.

„Do you eat enough, Sherlock?“ she asked, concern in her voice.   
„He can’t eat large meals, yet. But the hospital gave me instructions I can follow. And sometimes Mrs. Hudson brings something up for us, too,“ John said and thought about the recommendations which were stored in the kitchen. Sherlock had always been a picky eater with a changing appetite. Sherlock’s stomach was still not used to larger meals, caused by the long period of starvation. John always had in mind to prepare little meals, but offer Sherlock more than three meals a day. He was currently learning a completely new way of cooking. Of course he had already cooked before on a regular basis. But now he paid even more attention to fresh ingredients and tried to stick to a well-balanced diet to make sure Sherlock and his offspring got all nutrients they needed. 

„Don’t you want to visit us for a while to recover, Sherlock? You could take walks with Dad. The fresh air would be so much better than the smog here in London,“ Violet suggested. But Sherlock immediately shook his head.   
„No. I don’t want to leave London. No way,“ he said with grim determination in his voice. He lowered his hands, still holding the teacup, into his lap.  
„But I would love to take care of you for a while. It would be no bother at all.“  
„No, mummy… I have everything I need here in London.“  
„Sherlock absolutely wanted to go back to Baker Street. We should respect his wishes,“ Mycroft said smugly. Violet Holmes sighed. She very clearly felt uncomfortable.   
„I understand. But I am genuinely concerned. You are pregnant, Sherlock. That is a very special situation.“  
Sherlock stiffened visibly. His hands gripped his teacup more tightly, before his hurting fingertips caused him to loosen his grip again.   
„John has everything under control. He takes good care of me.“  
„We see the andrologist every week to make sure the children develop regularly and see how Sherlock’s doing,“ John added.   
„That means you are going to give birth to the children,“ Siger stated calmly.   
Sherlock nodded. He looked down into the teacup between his hands. „I can’t kill them. I don’t want them. But I won’t get rid of them. Mycroft promised to help find them good new parents. I’m giving them up for adoption.“  
John saw, how Violet swallowed. She may be a very emancipated Omega, but she still was one. Hearing that their grandchildren wouldn’t be part of the family was very obviously painful for her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone!

„Are you sure this is the right decision?“ Violet asked.  
„I am sure.“  
Violet cast a glance at her husband. It was a statement that hurt both of them.  
„But Sherlock… we could help you. You don’t have to make a decision today. And… I know, your mother and I are not young anymore. But… what if we took the children with us?“  
Sherlock immediately turned to his father and flinched, because the sudden movement caused him pain.  
„What? Absolutely not!“ he protested.  
Siger put a hand onto Sherlock’s forearm. „It is a possibility. Just think about it.“  
Sherlock put his teacup onto the coffee table.  
„I’m tired. I need to rest,“ he said and stood with a groan.  
„Darling - what your father wants to say, is -“ Violet started, but Sherlock shook violently his head.  
His voice was trembling, when he said: „No. No, no way. I do not want children. Not now, not in a few months. And I most certainly don’t want them to grow up with you! John!“  
Sherlock turned towards John who got up now, too. John saw panic creeping over Sherlock’s face and how his breathing became ragged. John reached a hand over the coffee table. Sherlock took it and pushed himself past his mother. John moved towards him and put an arm around him.  
„Shh… take a deep breath. Excuse us, please,“ John just said and lead Sherlock towards the kitchen. Sherlock put an arm around John’s shoulders and pressed his other palm over his chest.  
„John… I can’t breathe…“  
„You will get better. Come on. Trust me.“ John lead Sherlock further through the kitchen and into his room without looking back to the rest of the family. Once in Sherlock’s room, John lead his trembling friend to the bed, and they sat down.  
„Sherlock - you’re having a panic attack. Breathe slowly, or you will pass out. Breathe with me. Give me your hand.“ John took Sherlock’s hand and put it onto his own chest. 

„Breathe in - one, two, three, four. Very good. And breathe out. One, two, three, four, five, six. Breathe in - one, two, three, four…“ John observed Sherlock closely, while he tried to pull Sherlock into his own slow breathing rhythm. He saw sweat on Sherlock’s forehead and upper lip, his view unfocussed.  
„You’re doing well, Sherlock. I’m with you. You’ll get better in a few moments. Just breathe with me. Don’t be afraid. Nobody is going to force something onto you.“  
With his free hand John searched his pockets for a handkerchief. When he found one, he gently wiped sweat from Sherlock’s forehead. Sherlock’s breathing was already more regular by now.  
„You see? You’re getting better. Are you with me, Sherlock?“  
Sherlock nodded. He gently pressed his hand against John’s chest. He felt John’s chest rise and fall with every breath and the slow, steady beating of his heart. Fascination was mixing into his fear. He spread his fingers, until his large hand laid flat on John’s chest. By doing so, he could feel John’s heartbeat very clearly - John was with him. His John, his best friend, the only man that really mattered. The man for whom he had gone through hell. And he would not hesitate to do it again. John sensed that something between them was changing, but he stayed absolutely still. Sherlock lifted his gaze from John’s checkered shirt now, until he could look into his eyes. 

„I can feel your heartbeat,“ he whispered.  
„I hope so. Otherwise you should call an ambulance,“ John smiled and looked back into Sherlock’s mesmerizing eyes. For a moment they just looked into each others eyes, and neither of them was able to break eye contact. Sherlock was captured by John’s dark blue eyes. He knew them so well… these eyes had looked at him with every expression Sherlock was able to name: rage, incomprehension, disappointment, adoration, fascination… love. It was definitely a deeply felt affection Sherlock was able to see at the moment. His own affection for John was very close under the surface of his usually so very composed facade. Sherlock surprised himself, when he leaned towards John and put both his arms around him, his head lowered until he nearly touched his collar. 

John was surprised, too. But he automatically hugged his friend. He felt Sherlock’s baby bump warm and solid against his own belly. Sherlock’s breath was warm against his neck. John closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath. Just like Sherlock was very close to his own scent glands, John was close to Sherlock’s, too. Due to the removal of Sherlock’s hormonal implant and of course due to the pregnancy Sherlock’s unique scent had become stronger and somewhat sweeter. He smelled divine… 

Sherlock’s eyes were closed, and he enjoyed a strange, new closeness to his best friend - a closeness they had never shared before. John’s smell was familiar and comforting. Like home. During his mission Sherlock had tried to remember this smell so many times. John’s smell together with the smell of a fire in their fireplace, tea and chemicals from the kitchen had been able to put him into a state, which allowed him to gather some strength. Sometimes Sherlock cursed the good olfactory sense Alphas and Omegas had. But much more often he had been glad about this ability which allowed him to open up possibilities and gain so much more information. He unconsciously nestled his cheek closer against John’s neck. 

John felt Sherlock’s hands traveling over his back, felt his cheek against his neck and sighed quietly. He could cry if he let himself think about what Sherlock had to endure. This Omega deserved someone who cared for him, took care of him, who accepted him just the way he was, who supported him, no matter what, and was there for him. If only he himself could this someone… If only he himself wasn’t an Omega, he would love to… 

John opened his eyes and swallowed. What the hell was he thinking about? Heat crept into his cheeks when he realized just how close they were. And what it was they were doing right now: it was called scenting. And it was something bond mates did in their relationship to bring each other closer together, to support each other whenever one of the bond mates needed it. 

Bond mates shared a combined scent, but their own scent was of course still present and was always a source of comfort and safety. What Sherlock did right now was simple: he tried to cover himself in John’s scent - just like he would do with a bond mate. John cleared his throat. He didn’t want to disengage from the embrace and offend Sherlock by doing so. It had been Sherlock who had taken the initiative to come this close. To just let go now would have been a rejection John would never want to risk. 

Sherlock opened his eyes, when he heard John clear his throat and shuddered. What the hell was he doing? Because he, too, immediately realized what he was doing: he was scenting John. Oh god… Sherlock leaned back and let go.  
„I’m sorry, John, I…“ he stammered and avoided John’s gaze.  
„It’s okay. You’re pregnant and you are an unbonded Omega. Your reaction is… is perfectly understandable. You’re under a lot of stress.“  
„Yes… Yes, must be. Maybe… we spent so much time together lately. Day and night. Maybe that’s why…“ Yes, maybe. But why did he so desperately wish to be as close to John as just a moment before? Was that really due to the stress?  
„Won’t happen again,“ Sherlock murmured, avoiding John’s gaze.  
„No, it’s fine. I…“ John tentatively took Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock looked at their joined hands.  
„What ever you need, Sherlock. You know that. And if you… well, if you need this, then…“  
They finally looked each other in the eyes, uncertain, slightly abashed. And then there was a knock at the door. 

„Dr. Watson - is my son alright?“ Violet Holmes asked through the closed door.  
„Shall I send your parents home?“ John asked.  
Sherlock hesitated. Then he shook his head. „No, I… just need a moment.“  
„Right. Come back out when ever you feel like it.“ John gently squeezed Sherlock’s hand before he let go, stood up and went to the door. Sherlock’s mother peered over John’s shoulder into Sherlock’s room.  
„We should give him a moment. He says, he will come back out.“ John closed the door to give Sherlock a moment of privacy. He lead Violet Holmes to the kitchen, where she stopped him. 

„Dr. Watson, can we have a word, please…“  
John stopped and looked at her.  
„I wanted to thank you. For helping Mycroft to get Sherlock out of this hell. And for being there for him. Not everybody would have done that after all you went through a year ago.“  
John didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded curtly. He had suffered like a dog, before he had been told Sherlock was still alive and in trouble.  
„I know, I don’t have to explicitly ask you to keep an eye on him. I know you will. But I want to ask you for just one thing, Dr. Watson.“  
„Please call me John,“ John smiled.  
„John,“ Violet nodded, „My son was always… a sensitive child. He went through hard times. And became the man he is now because of that. I often had the feeling, we as his parents should have helped him more. But he didn’t allow us to help. We thought if we offered him to raise the children… I am so scared that he hasn’t thought enough about the consequences of an adoption.“  
John sighed. He dragged Violet further away from Sherlock’s bedroom door, although they had spoken quietly. One could never know, if Sherlock was able to hear parts of their conversation. 

„It was no easy decision, I can assure you. I understand that his decision to give the children up for adoption is a difficult one for you. But please don’t pressure him. None of us can know what he’s really feeling. I fear it would afflict him too much and put him under too much stress if you took care of the children. He would think we would try to convince him to see the children. To take care of them. We… we shouldn’t do that. And respect his decision.“ It wasn’t easy for John to speak all of this out loud. He didn’t like the idea that Sherlock’s babies would come to live with total strangers. But they mustn’t ignore Sherlock’s wishes and decisions. Violet shighed.  
„I don’t like to admit it, but… Maybe you know my son better than I do. Alright. I have to trust you.“  
They went back to the living room.

Sherlock joined them a few minutes later and took his place on the sofa again, but the mood was tense and stayed like that. It was Mycroft who urged his parents to leave after an uncomfortable quarter of an hour. Sherlock was in fact thankful, but showed it only through a curt nod, which Mycroft returned. Once they were alone again, Sherlock took a relieved breath. After clearing the table, John prepared a bowl of yoghurt with fresh fruit for Sherlock. Sherlock wrinkled his nose. „I don't eat yoghurt.“  
„You do now. It’s part of your diet. And good for the children. They need calcium.“ John offered him the bowl. Sherlock sighed. He would have liked the chunks of strawberry and peach - just without the yoghurt, which had never been one of his favorite foods. He looked up at John with his best puppy eyes, but John shook his head.  
„Doesn’t work with me. I promised your parents to take care of you. And I promised your andrologist. I mixed a little honey into it. Now please eat.“  
If it had been only for his own sake, Sherlock wouldn’t have eaten anything. John wouldn’t have been able to force him to eat something he didn’t want. But things were different now. And so he finally took the spoon and started to eat. Even if he didn’t want to keep the children, he didn’t want them to lack something. They hadn’t gotten enough for the first half of the pregnancy. Sherlock didn’t know if the children would be able to catch up, but he didn’t want to blame himself afterwards for being selfish. 

„I need distraction,“ Sherlock stated one day during the following week.  
He was feeling much better. All his wounds had healed well. He had even set up his microscope in the kitchen again. He couldn’t work on it as long as before. But it was better than only occupying himself with his phone or notebook. John still spent the nights in Sherlock’s bed, his armchair already back in the living room. Sherlock still woke every other night from a nightmare. And he was much more jumpy than before. It was difficult for him, if someone approached him from behind. John had accustomed himself to always address Sherlock, when ever Sherlock was sitting or lying somewhere for a longer period or seemed otherwise absent. A physiotherapist was still visiting daily for Sherlock’s exercises, and Sherlock had seen Dr. Gawen for his regular appointment. She wanted to see him again next week, but she was content with the progress of the pregnancy. Just like last time, Sherlock had - after a moment’s hesitation - watched the ultrasound. Especially the 3D part had fascinated him. It had been John again who had taken the fotos Dr. Gawen had printed out for them - together with the other papers concerning the pregnancy. If the next exam showed regular progress again, Dr. Gawen had promised she wanted to see Sherlock only every two or three weeks from that point on, until the due date came closer. 

„What do you mean: distraction?“ John asked, who was just printing out some documents. He still had to talk about it to Sherlock, but he had to get back to work some time soon. The employment office he had registered himself to after Sherlock’s „death“ had sent him two offers for well paid stand-ins in central London.  
„Lestrade,“ Sherlock replied.  
„Lestrade? What are you implying? Are you telling me, you want to work for Scotland Yard again?“ John turned around on his desk chair, facing the kitchen, to look at his friend.  
„Why not?“ Sherlock changed a slide and concentrate on his microscope again.  
„You are pregnant.“  
„So? Police officers get pregnant, too.“  
„You can hardly compare that to your situation. Besides, Greg doesn’t know, yet, that you’re still alive. And everything what happened.“  
„Then it’s time he gets to know the facts. He will be pleased to have someone again to help him out on his cases.“  
„You really think he wants to have you at a crime scene while you’re pregnant?“

Finally Sherlock liftet his gaze from his microscope. „If we don’t ask him, we’re not going to find out. Call him.“  
John lifted his eyebrows. „Me? Why don’t you do that?“  
„He still believes, I’m dead. Maybe someone alive should call him.“  
John hesitated. Sherlock was right, John had to admit. Besides…  
„I haven’t talk to Greg in ages,“ John admitted.  
„I thought so. Still you had contact after my death.“  
„Would you please not talk about it this way?“  
„Oh John, it doesn’t matter anymore.“  
„But it still hurts,“ John replied and turned around again to his notebook and the printer. Sherlock froze. Suddenly the soil samples he had been looking at weren’t that interesting anymore. In fact, Sherlock and John hadn’t talk about how John had felt after he had had to witness Sherlock’s jump from the roof of St. Bart’s, Sherlock realized now. And it seemed to still weigh on John. And now Sherlock considered how to approach the subject. John had done so much for him during the last weeks. Selflessly. Like he had always been when it had come to Sherlock. But Sherlock remembered the moment he had laid on the pavement in front of St. Bart’s, surrounded by people who had all been part of his plan, blood on his skin. He remembered, how John had tried to get through to him. 

„I’m a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please…“ John had pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered around the body lying on the floor. John had fallen down on his knees, reached for Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock had felt the touch of John’s warm fingers on the pulse point of his right hand. Then someone had pulled John’s hand away, prying his fingers from Sherlock’s wrist.  
„No, he’s my friend. He’s my friend. Please…“ Sherlock hadn’t been able to focus. Out of the corner of his eye he had been able to see, how John had nearly collapsed into the arms of a woman.  
„God, no…“ John’s voice so small, so quiet…  
„God, no…“ Someone had rolled Sherlock onto his back. He had seen the grey sky and never before had he felt more pain. Not the moment, when his dog Redbeard had died. Not the moment, when some classmates had taken and destroyed his violin. Not the moment, when he had realized that he was an Omega and maybe would never be able to reach any of the goals he had dreamed of. Not the moment, when he had looked into his father’s face after he had gotten into the car with Mycroft to drive to a clinic for his first withdrawal. Not the moment, when he had decided to fake his suicide to save his best friend’s live. This moment was by far the most painful in Sherlock’s life: to hear the heart of his best friend break.

Sherlock shook his head for a moment, to get rid of the memories. He felt goosebumps on his neck. He hesitantly licked his lips.  
„John…“ he said, „I’m sorry. I had no choice.“  
„I know. I know, why you did it,“ John answered. His voice was neutral, trying to hide his feelings.  
„Of course you know, why I did it. But that doesn’t mean, that I made my decision an easy one. I wish I could have told you. The last thing I wanted was to endanger you.“  
„You forced me to watch.“  
Sherlock swallowed. „I had no other choice in that matter, either. It had to be real for you, so Moriarty’s men wouldn’t get suspicious.“  
„Mycroft explained everything to me. Thanks to your investigation and your undercover work his minions were able to eliminate the threat upon Greg, Mrs. Hudson and myself. Otherwise Mycroft wouldn’t have been able to get me into it after he lost contact to you.“  
Sherlock nodded - more to himself, because John still looked at his notebook.  
„I wish, I could have told you. If you had been with me… maybe nothing of this had happened.“  
John took a deep breath. „You’re damn right.“ Finally he turned towards Sherlock. They looked at each other. Saw the aftermath the fall from a hospital roof had left on both of them. Sherlock’s heart was beating rapidly. Did he really see tears in John’s eyes? He slowly pushed his chair back and stood up. He went into the living room with slow steps. John made no attempt to get up. He just looked at Sherlock, until he stopped directly in front of him. John lowered his gaze. Sherlock’s fingers twitched, moving restlessly. Finally he just knelt down, putting his weight onto his uninjured knee. 

„John…“ he whispered, searching John’s gaze.  
„I thought I had lost you,“ John murmured, „I thought, I had failed you. Because I left you the moment you had needed me the most. I should have been with you. And then there you were on the pavement…“ John’s voice became even more quiet with every word.  
„I am sorry,“ Sherlock repeated. He put a hand on John’s knee. It took a moment, until John took another deep breath and looked back up into Sherlock’s face. Eventually he covered Sherlock’s hand with his own.  
„I know“, he admitted. Then he stood up and pulled Sherlock with him to his feet.“

Sherlock groaned and straightened and bent his hurting knee a few times.  
„Ow,“ he said.  
„Idiot,“ John smiled.  
Sherlock smiled back. Then John pushed Sherlock into the direction of the kitchen. „Just go back to your microscope.“  
„Hm… boring, to be honest. Are you going to call Lestrade, now?“  
„You’re a real pain in the arse, you know that?“ But John went to the coffee table to fetch his mobile, while Sherlock took his place at the microscope again.  
„What do you want me to tell him?“ John asked uncertain.  
„What ever you think best.“  
„Everything? Even…“  
Sherlock nodded, trying to appear more brave than he felt. „He’s going to find out, anyway.“  
„Well, then…“ John felt his heart throbbing, when he dialed the number of Lestrade’s mobile phone. He hadn’t spoken to Greg in months. And now he had to come clean with him.


	17. Chapter 17

„Hello?“ came Greg Lestrade’s surprised question, because of course his display showed him, who was calling.   
„Hello, Greg…“  
„It’s really you, John! Dear lord, we haven’t spoken in ages! How are you?“ Greg sounded really delighted, and John felt a bad conscience for not keeping contact to him. He started to walk around the flat while talking.   
„Well, I… I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch more often.“  
„Nah, it’s okay. As long as this call won’t be a exception. What are you doing?“  
„Um… working mostly stand-ins in different surgeries. It’s flexible and well paid.“  
„So you’re no longer working for this Dr. Sawyer?“  
„No, I quit some time ago. But it’s fine. Greg, there is a reason I’m calling you.“  
Greg was immediately alert.   
„I have to tell you something. About… Sherlock.“  
Greg sighed. „I miss him, John. Not only his abilities. I miss him as a friend, too.“  
„Then you should maybe take a seat now.“  
„What? Why?“  
„Sherlock’s not dead. He’s back home in Baker Street. Together with me.“

John waited anxiously for Greg’s reaction. There was a moment of silence. Then Greg seemed to have overcome his surprise.   
„Sherlock’s alive? I can’t believe that… Where has this bastard been? How could he do that?“  
„That’s a long story. We’ll tell you soon unhurriedly. But… Sherlock’s not too well at the moment. You’ll come to know soon, anyway, so… He allowed me to tell you what happened. Are you free this evening? Fancy a pint?“  
„I’m on stand-by duty today. But what about tomorrow?“  
„Yes, I’m in. Around six at the Victoria?“  
„I’ll be there. I’m glad you called. And curious what you’re going to tell me. See you tomorrow, John.“  
„See you. Bye.“ John put his mobile aside. He looked to Sherlock, who had paid close attention to the phone call. 

„Let me guess: he called me a bastard.“  
„In fact, he did. And I can understand, why. But he doesn’t know the details, yet.“  
„Why don’t you invite him over? I can cope. Even if he punches me in the face.“  
„I would break his neck before I would allow anyone to hurt you.“  
„My knight in shining armour,“ Sherlock smiled. But John was not in the mood for jokes. His face was hard.   
„No, Sherlock. I mean it. No matter who wants to hurt you - he has to get past me. And don’t believe for second I wouldn’t keep my word.“  
Sherlock’s smile faded. He believed every single one of John’s words. His body language alone told him more than hundreds of words could. What an exceptional Omega John was! Did he even know, how exceptional he was? Obviously not. And what a shame this was! And what a good fortune, that he had met this Omega, Dr. John Watson, GP, 5th Northumberland fusiliers. And that this Omega had become his best friend. That he had the privilege, to just silently love this man… Sherlock swallowed hard. Then he shook his head, trying to loosen the tension in the room.   
„I absolutely believe you. But if you do that, he won’t consult me again. And you don’t want that.“  
Johns tension eased, and he chuckled. „Dear lord, no. But I… I wanted to talk to you about something else, too.“ John went into the kitchen, where Sherlock was still sitting at the kitchen table. He opened to fridge and started to rummage around while he tried to sort out his thoughts.   
Sherlock saw the tension in the muscles of John’s back and shoulders.   
„You want to start working again,“ he stated.   
John sighed. „I have to. We have to eat something. And I want to pay my share for the flat just like before.“ John started to collect everything he needed for a sandwich out of the fridge. Sherlock thought for a moment. He was not sure how much John knew about his financial status. 

„John… When we moved in together…“ he started hesitantly. John had already begun to prepare a sandwich. He started to slice a tomato and a piece of cucumber.  
„I told you, together we would be able to afford the flat and told you, Mrs. Hudson gave me a special deal.“  
„I remember very well. Ham or cheese?“  
„I’m not hungry. - Are you listening to me?“  
„Yes. Mrs. Hudson gave you a special deal.“ John finished the sandwich with ham, tomato and cucumber.  
„Even if the flat would cost twice more I would have been able to afford it on my own without any difficulty. But when I moved in back then… Mycroft warmly recommended to me to search for a flatmate. For my own good. I was thrown out of my last flat because of too many of my experiments. He had hoped, a flatmate would put an end to my excessive experimentation.“  
„And if not?“  
„He threatened me. He said, he would talk to Lestrade and take my work for Scotland Yard away from me.“  
„Hm… he wasn’t very successful altogether.“ John turned around and placed a plate in front of Sherlock. He had cut the sandwich into neat little triangles.  
„I told you, I’m not hungry.“  
„You’re not, but the babies are. Eat. What you want to tell me is, that I don’t have to work, because you could afford the flat on your own. Is that right?“

„Correct. I have some kind of escrow account. That’s what Mycroft paid the flat from.“ Sherlock took a piece of the sandwich without really wanting to.   
„Sherlock, even if that wasn’t a fact, I still would want to work again as a doctor. You wouldn’t want to forgo your work, either.“  
„Dear lord, no,“ Sherlock admitted, still chewing. Then he remembered his table manners and swallowed.   
John took the chair opposite Sherlock. „Then please don’t expect me to give up my work. I do stand-ins. I can carry on with that. It wouldn’t interfere with future investigations. And I wouldn’t feel like I was depending on you. Besides, I didn’t study medicine for many years just to be your conductor of light in the end.“  
„I couldn’t say if your over- or underqualified. You’re doing fine. You’re a great conductor of light.“ Sherlock smiled and reached for the next piece of sandwich.   
John suppressed a laugh. „That’s really a compliment…“  
„If it makes you happy to work, then do it. I can manage a few hours on my own. Do you have an offer?“  
„Two, in fact. I would like to call tomorrow and ask for an interview.“  
Sherlock nodded. Why was there only one piece of sandwich left on the plate? Did he really eat this much?  
„Do you want half an apple?“ John asked this instant, „In exchange for last piece of sandwich?“ John grabbed the last sandwich-triangle. 

Sherlock was very quiet and pensive the next evening. John couldn’t miss that. At first he assumed, that Sherlock was too immersed with his notebook. But then he realized: he was just trying to distract himself. John had changed his shirt up in his room for his meeting with Greg Lestrade. Now he was walking around the flat.   
„Did you see my phone?“ John looked up the different places where he generally left his phone.   
„Sherlock?“  
„Hm…“  
„Did you see my phone?“ John repeated. He stopped in the middle of the living room, where Sherlock sat on the sofa, his gaze glued to the screen of his notebook.  
„Hm…“  
John bit his lip to stay calm.  
„You told me, it was okay to tell Greg about everything that happened. If you have changed your mind, then tell me now, and I won’t tell him. But please talk to me.“  
„About what?“  
John sighed. „About what you want me to do. And could you please look at me?“  
Sherlock finally lifted his gaze. „I told you: you can tell him everything. As long as he keeps it to himself. And as long as he lets me investigate with him again. So don’t annoy me.“  
„I just want to make sure, you’re still okay with it.“ John looked at his watch. He had a few minutes left.   
„Do you wonder what Greg will think about you, once he knows everything?“  
„He is a detective at the homicide department. He has already heard and seen everything. He will know what to make out of the information you’re giving him.“  
Sherlock lowered his gaze back to his notebook. He tapped slowly and just using three of his fingers - the ones that hurt the least. Of course John had noticed. 

„If this was about me, I would ask myself if he would pity me. And if he would treat me differently in the future.“  
Sherlock looked up for a second. „If he did, he surely wouldn’t be a true friend, right?“  
This was a statement John would never have expected, and it touched him. He couldn’t suppress a smile. „Right. Well, I’m off now. Something you want me to tell him?“ John spotted his phone on the mantlepiece and pocketed it. Sherlock shook his head, and so John left the flat for the Victoria.

Greg Lestrade dropped his cigarette and crushed it with his heel, when he saw John walking towards him. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt, a pair of sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead. Did John just imagine it or was Greg’s hair even more silver than before? Sure it was a little longer than last time John had seen him.  
„Good to see you. Hello, Greg,“ John greeted, when he stopped in front of the DI.   
„John… you lost weight.“  
„And you’re greyer than before.“  
They shared a quick embrace and a laugh.  
„Very charming. Is that your thing with the ladies, hm? If so, I have to ask myself why you are so popular with them,“ Greg grinned.   
„If you weren’t married, I could teach you some things.“  
„I’ll get back to it.“ Greg’s grin faltered. John looked a little closer at him.   
„Sherlock was right with everything he said, I’m afraid. We’re getting a divorce,“ Greg admitted.   
„Damn… I’m sorry.“  
„Yeah, me too.“  
„And you started smoking again.“  
„Well, a divorce isn’t funny. And Sherlock’s suicide and all the trouble I had afterwards with my superior and… let’s change the subject. Let’s go in. First round is on me.“

The took a seat at the bar, and Greg got them their pints.   
„And how are you? Why didn’t you call me anymore?“ Greg asked after his first swig of beer.   
„Can’t you guess? My best friend jumped to his death, and I had to watch it happen. Everybody thought, Sherlock was a fraud. Everybody talked badly about him. Everybody had another lie to tell about him. That hurt me personally, do you understand? And… I missed him terribly…“  
„That’s why you left Baker Street?“  
„Yes. I couldn’t stand to stay there on my own. Not just because the flat was too expensive for me. The memories of Sherlock were too much.“  
„But you moved back in now.“  
„Sherlock’s back now, of course I moved back in.“  
Greg bit his lip before asking: „So all of this was just a… what? A bluff? A play?“  
John decided to answer this question in a different way. 

„You know, that Sherlock is an Omega.“  
„Of course. Was the first thing his brother told me after I arrested Sherlock for the first time. He asked me to look after him, if I could. Why?“  
John took a hold of his pint glass. It wasn’t easy for him to tell Greg everything.   
„The real reason why Sherlock jumped off the roof of St.-Bart’s is… he wanted to protect someone.“  
„You…“ Greg said quietly, immediately realizing what must have happened a year ago. He looked shocked.   
„Yes. And Mrs. Hudson. And… you.“ John saw Greg’s eyes widen and continued: „Moriarty had snipers watching all of us. If Sherlock hadn’t jumped, they would have shot us. He faked his death to save our lives. And then went undercover to destroy Moriarty’s network. Mycroft tried to help him from his office here in London and keep his back. Sherlock investigated in eastern Europe. And got caught by Moriarty’s men.“ John took a deep breath.   
„When Mycroft lost him, he eventually contacted me and told me the truth. And asked for my help. When we finally found Sherlock, he was in captivity for about half a year. Moriarty’s men had found out he was an Omega. Not only they tortured him, but also raped him. And… Sherlock is pregnant with twins. About 20 weeks.“  
John saw the shocked expression on Greg’s face while Greg started to rub his forehead.   
„Oh god, John… that’s… I don’t know what to say.“  
„Yes,“ John snorted, „I know exactly what you mean. He’s giving the children up for adoption.“  
„I understand. And Moriarty… So this whole story was true, then?“  
„Every word. Not Moriarty was made up. Richard Brook was made up. Sherlock never hired anyone. Moriarty staged all this up. And he did it so well, that even you and your team fell for it.“

Greg stared down to the floor. He thought about conversations with Anderson and Donovan until he himself had started to doubt Sherlock - the man he had known and trusted for many years. And worse: he had done nothing to help Sherlock. On the contrary. He had been present during Sherlock’s arrest, but hadn’t been able to prevent it. He had never questioned the whole story around Richard Brook enough. He had never really tried to investigate in favor of Sherlock. And in the end he had seen Sherlock’s suicide as a confession of guilt. Of course Greg had often asked himself, if he could have done something differently. If he shouldn’t have realized much earlier, that something was off about Sherlock Holmes. What John had just told him shocked him. 

„How is Sherlock now?“ Greg asked quietly.   
„Like someone who was tortured and raped for months. He shows signs of a PTSD. I try to be there for him. But he still refuses to see a professional. I don’t know if he can come to terms with it all by himself. Even more, once the pregnancy continues. He’s seeking distraction at the moment. That’s why he asked me to call you.“  
Greg’s eyes went wide. „Are you trying to tell me, he wants me to consult him again? I got in really hot water back then! If my superior discovers, that I work with him again, I’m going to lose my job!“  
„Then you better ask before he finds out for himself. If necessary, we can still ask Mycroft to get involved. Please do something for Sherlock, Greg. I can’t take responsibility for the next 20 weeks of his pregnancy, when he bored out of his mind.“  
Greg drank down the rest of his beer in two big gulps. He sighed. „Damn… I have to sleep it over. You okay with that?“  
„Of course. I don’t want to coax you into anything. I know in how much trouble you got a year ago. But please think about it.“  
„I will. But I can’t promise anything.“  
„It’s okay.“

Both stayed silent for a while. Finally Greg asked: „Was Sherlock hurt badly?“  
„Nothing life threatening. He will have scars from the abuse, but it could have been much worse.“  
„How worse can it become? You say, he is pregnant. I was never able to imagine Sherlock pregnant.“  
John nodded. „Me neither. But to my surprise it suits him. If only he wasn’t so thin…“  
„But he will fully recover?“  
„Yes, I think so. It’s not that physically bad. Like I said, the psychological side is very different.“  
„And the pregnancy - how does he feel about it?“  
„He seriously considered an abortion. But decided against it in the end. He’s already able to feel the children moving. I suppose that’s made him decide for an adoption. I find that incredibly brave.“  
„It is. I don’t want to imagine… how he’s feeling when he knows…“ Greg took a deep breath. He knew all to well, what rape did to the victims. It was an experience one could never really leave behind.   
„How do you feel with it? That he wants to give the children away. You’ll never have children of your own.“  
John snorted. „How should I feel it about it? It’s his body, his decision. That has nothing to do with me.“  
„You live together.“  
„And I support his decision. He’s my best friend.“  
„You’re not going to change his mind? Make him keep the children?“  
John looked at Greg, his gaze unreadable. „Only he can make such a decision. And it must be a heart felt one. I could never change his mind, even if I wanted to. You know him. Of course…“ John sighed. „Of course I want him to change his mind. But that’s a thing only he can do.“  
Greg saw, how hard this situation was for John, too, and he admired his strength.   
„No wonder he risked his life for a friend like you,“ Greg said.   
John smiled a little. „I would have preferred, if he had just told me the truth and had let me help him. Maybe nothing of this nightmare would have happened.“  
„But it has happened. And he knows you’re still there for him and still his best friend. Sherlock knows, what kind of friend he has in you.“  
John didn’t reply. He stood, took their empty glasses and went to get two more pints. Greg watched him exchange some words with the waitress working at the tap. John really was one of the strongest men Greg had ever met. He didn’t know, how John had been before he knew him. War and injury changed people. But John had successfully won his life back. Also thanks to Sherlock. Sherlock… 

Greg lowered his gaze down onto the bar. He wiped at the condensed water with a serviette. He had missed Sherlock and had been out of his mind because of his bad conscience. He absolutely wanted to go see him. Maybe explain a few things to him. Apologize. How would Anderson and Donovan and the other colleagues at the Yard react, once they found out Sherlock was still alive? He should ask John, if he wanted him to still keep it secret.

„What are you thinking about?“ John asked and handed him his beer before sitting down again.   
„Would it be alright for Sherlock, if I visited him?“  
„Of course. He doesn’t admit it openly, but he would be glad to see you.“  
„Would you ask him, when I can stop by for a visit?“  
„Greg, you can come anytime you like. You don’t even have to think about asking. Okay?“ John smiled at Greg. Greg lifted his glass.   
„Then give him my regards, and I… I’ll stop by. As soon as I’ve talked to my superior.“  
„If there’s any trouble, please tell me. Then I’ll have a word with Mycroft.“


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, folks! Translating sucks... 
> 
> I've been to London last week for the Sherlock escape room. That was much fun! And we solved it, yay! We'll definitely try out another one.

John and Greg sat together for much longer, but neither of them wanted to get really drunk. After some hesitation Greg talked about his divorce, about the events at the Yard after Sherlock’s jump from the roof of St. Bart’s, about his difficulties with Sally Donovan. It seemed as if he just wanted to get rid of everything. But soon the mood became lighter. They started to chat about old cases and funny incidents. When they finally parted, they both had a good feeling and believed, that the friendship that had begun back then, had the potential to grow further. 

John didn’t want to take a cab, so he started to walk home. It was a pleasant summer night. Most of the other people, who passed him, were in a good mood. While he walked, John let his thoughts wander. Meeting Greg had been a good thing, even if many of the topics they had talked about, hadn’t been pleasant. Of course not. John hoped, that things were starting to get better, now. If Greg’s superior allowed Sherlock to work for Scotland Yard, they would all benefit from that. Because that much was clear: If Sherlock had to spend the next 20 weeks at home without any form of occupation, it would be the maximum penalty for both Sherlock and John. Currently Sherlock was more tired than usual and slept surprisingly much. But within the next few weeks, when Sherlock got better and better, Sherlock would fall back into his old behavior. That was clear to John. And by then Sherlock would need something to challenge his intellect. Pregnant or not. Greg and John hadn’t talked about possibilities for this scenario. They would have to wait and see what happened. Until then, John would play the scapegoat, if necessary. 

When he arrived back at Baker Street, the flat was dark and silent. John went up to his room, changed into pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt and brushed his teeth before carefully opening the adjoining door to Sherlock’s room and entering it. He had barely managed two steps into the room, when a hand closed around his ankle and scared the shit out of John. He suppressed a surprised yelp, but automatically jumped back. Until he realized, that Sherlock sat on the floor behind the door to the corridor.

„Sherlock! Dear lord, you nearly scared me to death. What are you doing down there?“ John knelt down in front of him. Sherlock’s eyes were glistening in the dark.   
„I… I heard noises…“ Sherlock admitted.   
„That was just me, Sherlock.“  
„No. No, before you came home.“  
„Before I came home? But what -“  
„Creaking. Cracking. I thought, I heard a door.“  
John smiled reassuringly. „You know what sounds the floorboards can make. You should know all those sounds.“  
„Are you sure, we’re alone?“  
„I was in every room, Sherlock. Changed my clothes upstairs, went through the living room and the kitchen and brushed my teeth. We’re alone. Since when are you sitting here?“ John asked concerned.   
„Not sure.“  
„Please get up.“  
Sherlock hesitated. John suppressed a sigh. „Why didn’t you call me? You never had any qualms to call me no matter what and drag me back here. I would have come home immediately.“ John stood up and helped Sherlock to his feet. Sherlock groaned and moved his arms and legs.   
„Seriously: Why didn’t you call?“  
„My phone’s in the living room…“ Sherlock whispered.   
„I’m sorry I wasn’t here.“ John rubbed his hands over Sherlock’s upper arms. He had in fact at some point of the evening considered to call Sherlock and hear, if he was okay. But had decided against it. Sherlock was a grown man. And just like John had said: Sherlock had never hesitated to call him. But that he hadn’t dared to leave his room surprised John. He felt bad about it, but was also glad, that Sherlock hadn’t gotten a panic attack. 

„Get into bed. Do you need anything, Sherlock?“, John asked in a low voice. Sherlock sank onto the mattress. He ran his hands over his hair.   
„I am usually not like that. You know me,“ Sherlock said and sounded miserable.   
„I know.“ John got into bed next to Sherlock. They lay facing each other. John resisted the temptation to take Sherlock’s hand. They remained silent for a while, until John said: „Maybe it’s not a good idea if I start working again already.“  
„Nonsense. I can’t expect to have someone around me at all times. I have to get back to normality. Earlier, I was… it was stupid. But I wasn’t able to think properly.“  
„You were scared. Of course you weren’t.“  
„I don’t want to be scared anymore.“

Sherlock’s words went directly to John’s heart. Of course Sherlock didn’t want to be scared. Fear was something even Sherlock Holmes was able to feel. Back then in Baskerville he had even admitted it freely. But to have this feeling constantly and have it even in his own home, was hard for Sherlock.  
„Don’t you think you should accept some help from a professional?“ John asked tentatively. He knew how sensible Sherlock reacted to this topic. His reaction was the same like before: „I don’t need a therapist. I need normality. And something to do. I need my life back.“  
„What you experienced in Serbia -“  
„Is long past. I want to leave it behind. And I don’t want to constantly talk about something that’s over.“  
„It dosen’t work this way, Sherlock. I know perfectly well, how it feels. I -“  
„And the therapy didn’t help you. I helped you.“  
John sighed. Sherlock was right. Sherlock had been successful where Ella had failed. It had taken Sherlock only one night to cure John’s limp and give him his life back. But was Sherlock able tu cure himself? John knew it wouldn’t be that easy. But still he couldn’t and wouldn’t force Sherlock into anything. 

„If Lestrade can give me something to do, it will help me immensely. And if you treat me like you always did. Please, John. I… I need to get back to my old self.“  
„You will. But give yourself some time. Don’t put yourself under too much pressure.“  
„If you want to work again, John, than do it. I have to deal with being on my own. I can’t hide from creaking floor boards for the rest of my life.“  
„We’ll see. Maybe they don’t want me, anyway.“  
Sherlock snorted. „Don’t play small, John. You’re a good doctor.“  
John snickered. „Oh, that’s a surprise. So you can finally admit I’m not useless.“  
„Idiot,“ Sherlock replied. John was able to see him smiling in the dark.  
„Good night, Sherlock.“  
„Good night, John.“

John addressed his conversation with Greg from the previous night during breakfast.  
„Greg sends his regards. He wants to know, if he can come to see you.“ John put a plate with toast on the kitchen table.   
Sherlock looked at John incredulously. „Of course he can. He can come for a visit when ever he has some case for me to look into.“  
„He has to talk to his superior beforehand. Greg could lose his job, if he doesn’t.“  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. „Mycroft’s gonna intervene, if necessary.“  
„That’s what I told Greg, too. But let’s just wait until he has talked to his superior.“  
„Are you going to apply for the job offers you got?“  
„He, are to trying to get rid of me?“ John poured them some coffee and sat down at the table.   
„No. But as I said yesterday: We have to get back to normality. I promise to call you, if I don’t feel well. Or call Mrs. Hudson.“  
„Okay, if you insist…“

At the same moment the doorbell rang. John and Sherlock exchanged a look.   
„You’re expecting someone?“ John asked and got up again to answer the door. Sherlock shook his head.   
„I’ll take a look.“  
Sherlock got up, too, to retreat to his room, while John went downstairs. Greg Lestrade grinned at him.   
„Good morning. I just left the Yard. With somewhat good news. I’m on my way to a crime scene and I thought, I just stop by on my way. May I come in?“  
„Sure. Sherlock just told me, he would like you to visit. Coffee?“  
„I already had some at the office. And I have to leave again, soon. Thanks, though.“ Greg followed John upstairs. Of course Sherlock had recognized Greg’s voice. He had just put on his dressing gown and was awaiting them in the living room.

„Hello, Sherlock,“ Greg said and stopped a few steps before Sherlock. Sherlock took a deep breath. He saw, what was responsible for the additional wrinkles and the increased amount of grey hair: guilt after Sherlock’s faked death, career stagnation, divorce, fallen from grace with his superior, a new, ugly, small bedsit, at odds with Sally Donovan, started smoking again, unhealthy diet, quarrel with one of the younger colleagues, trouble with an old spine injury from Rugby. But he was still Gregory Lestrade, one of Sherlock’s very few friends. One of the people he faked his death for. 

„Lestrade… I…“ Sherlock fell silent. He had no idea what to say.   
„It’s alright.“ Greg slowly came closer and stopped directly in front of Sherlock. Sherlock could see, that Greg wanted to hug him. But he didn’t dare. And Sherlock knew, why. He seemed fragile, breakable. His baby bump was even more prominent due to his still much too thin frame. Sherlock extended a hand out of a sudden impulse.   
„It’s good to see you,“ Sherlock said quietly.   
Greg took his hand and just held it. He didn’t know what to respond. Sherlock saw Greg swallowing a few times, then took a breath and said: „You know… I always knew, you’re not nearly as cool and analytical as you always claim. Thank you. I most likely owe you my life.“  
Sherlock didn’t say anything. He had no idea what to make out of such a statement. He just nodded his head once. Greg let go off his hand.   
„How are you?“ Greg asked now.   
Sherlock shrugged. „Surely John told you everything worth telling.“  
„He did. But how are you?“ Greg looked intently at Sherlock with honest interest. Sherlock lowered his gaze after a few seconds.   
„I’m still alive, I’m not badly injured, I do physiotherapy for my knee and my shoulder, the pain has nearly receded, but I’m five months pregnant with twins and currently trying to get my life back. What do you think how I am?“ he then spluttered and went into the kitchen. Greg searched John’s gaze. John shrugged, but soundlessly formed words with his lips: „Go after him.“

Sherlock had taken his place at the kitchen table again. Greg took the chair opposite.  
„I can’t even try to imagine how you must be feeling right now, Sherlock. Nobody, who hasn’t experienced what you had to endure, can. But… really, I’m thankful for everything you did. For me, for John, for Mrs. Hudson. And I… I want to do whatever it takes to make you feel better. Because we’re friends. And don’t deny it, Sherlock Holmes. Otherwise I’m not gonna campaign for you with my chief superintendent,“ Greg threatened with a broad grin. Sherlock couldn’t suppress a small smile.   
Greg continued: „I talked to my superior. I had to get his permission, before I am allowed to consult with you again. I first had to explain everything that happened. I hope you’re okay with that. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do anything for you.“  
„Did he already decide something?“  
„Next week, he said. You have to be patient. I know, patience is not your forte,“ Greg smiled apologetically.  
Sherlock nodded. „I get it.“  
Greg saw, that Sherlock really meant what he said. What had happened to Sherlock touched Greg, and he truly wanted to help him. If consulting Sherlock helped him to get over everything, then he would gladly do so. The chief superintendent hadn’t seemed too happy about Greg’s question. But that wasn’t to be expected - not after John Watson had given him a punch in the face and had left him with a bloody nose. 

„If there is anything I can do for you, Sherlock, no matter what, even if it has nothing to do with my cases, you can call me. When ever you want or need to. You have my word.“  
Sherlock blinked a few times. Greg’s words moved him deeply. Of course he considered the detective inspector as a friend. And this friendship was just starting to develop a whole new level. A very personal one. That was new, and Sherlock didn’t know what to say. Instead he felt tears prickling in his eyes. And he certainly didn’t want to cry now. He swallowed to clear his throat. 

„I… I’ll get back to that, Lestrade,“ Sherlock said.   
John grinned. „That means thank you, Greg.“  
Greg grinned back to John, who had joined them in the kitchen. „I already learned that much Sherlock to be able to translate that.“ Then he turned back to Sherlock, reaching a hand across the table to put it over Sherlock’s for a moment, who in the meantime was holding close to his coffee mug.   
„I’ll get in touch as soon as my superior has given me an answer. Okay? See you.“ Greg got up, gave John a friendly pat on the shoulder and left. Sherlock glanced down onto his hand. Gregs friendly gesture had felt surprisingly good. Sherlock shyly wiped away a tear. John didn’t comment on it. Instead he took his place at the table again, and they had breakfast in companionable silence.

After a shower Sherlock stood in front of the mirror and critically studied his reflection while shaving. He had discovered new wrinkles around his eyes after all his bruises had faded. Some of his wounds had left pink scars. At least none of his teeth were missing. When he had finished shaving, he ran his hands through his hair. John had made an effort to cut them as evenly as possible. But he hadn’t been too successful. Sherlock hated how he looked. It had been in his last rehab, when Sherlock himself had cut his hair that short - in a bout of disgust of himself. It was a time he didn’t want to remember. He had tried to delete the memory. But he had only been able to lock it into a distant part of his mind palace in a well secured room. To see himself like this felt like seeing the hinges and the lock on the door to this room rusted and breaking. It was a state he wasn’t able to endure much longer. And if he - and Sherlock desperately hoped this - was allowed to work for Greg Lestrade again, he should at least look presentable. 

Sherlock left the bathroom and went searching for his phone. John looked up from his laptop, when he heard Sherlock talking to someone. John was more than surprised, when he even heard him laugh. Who was Sherlock talking to? Not two minutes later, Sherlock appeared in the living room and sat down on the sofa.   
„Do you have something to do in the city? We could share a taxi,“ Sherlock said as nonchalantly as he could. He still had his phone in hand and was tapping and wiping on the small screen. John thought about Sherlock’s offer for a second, but was sure he would find something to do. Sherlock would never ask him to accompany him if he wasn’t sure he wanted John with him.   
„When and where are we going?“ John asked.   
„Six o’clock. Near Liverpool Street. I have to see my stylist.“  
„That’s quite late.“  
„Majid will kindly be waiting for me until closing time.“  
„Majid?“  
„My stylist. He’s the only one I allow near my hair.“  
„Oh… Um… Liverpool Street… I’ll think about something. Don’t worry.“  
„Good.“

When it was time to leave many hours later, Sherlock ordered a taxi. In the meantime John had thought about something to do near Liverpool Street, but to be honest: he had no idea. When it was time to leave the house, it was clear to John, that Sherlock became more and more nervous. It would be the first time for him to leave the house. John still had no clue what to do, while Sherlock got his haircut. And if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to leave him alone. But John didn’t want Sherlock to get a false impression. Of course he was more than capable to see his hairdresser. He didn’t need John to sit next to him. John sighed. Maybe he put too much thought into it. 

Sherlock had no other clothes to fit him but some clean track pants and a t-shirt, together with a denim jacket John didn’t have a clue he possessed. Together with an old pair of trainers he looked more casual than John had ever seen him. He didn’t comment on Sherlock’s look. When he grabbed his wallet and keys, he finally admitted: „Sherlock - to be honest, I don’t have any idea what to do near Liverpool Street. If you want me to, I’ll just take a walk and come back to the salon, when you’re finished.“  
„Don’t be ridiculous. I’m pretty sure Majid will treat you with a drink, while you wait for me.“  
John sighed. Of course Sherlock would know that John had no business near Liverpool Street.   
„Do you mind?“ he asked.   
„I wouldn’t take you if I did.“ Sherlock was already opening the door. John followed him and was relieved. That seemed to be settled, then.


	19. Chapter 19

About 20 minutes later John entered the salon just a step behind Sherlock. A young man in his mid thirties, wearing plain blue-jeans and a black dress-shirt, walked towards them and smiled brightly. His wore his dark hair stylishly short and had a perfectly groomed short beard.

„Sherlock! Dear lord, it’s really you! I thought I heard a ghost, when you called me. I’m so glad you’re still alive.“  
John was more than a little surprised, when he watched Sherlock being pulled into a tight embrace and even reciprocating it. When the stylist let go off Sherlock, he thoroughly eyed him up and down and looked concerned. 

„You look bad, my friend.“ He took Sherlock’s hands and looked at his baby bump. „You should look much better with such a bump. What happened?“  
Sherlock sighed. „The bump wasn’t planned. I… had some trouble and had to go undercover. Something went terribly wrong.“  
„I thought you had a stick.“   
John suppressed every reaction. This was slang for the hormonal implants like Sherlock had used one.   
„It was removed,“ Sherlock murmured. 

The eyes of the stylist went wide, when he immediately understood what that meant. Then he pulled Sherlock into another hug and held him without saying anything. Now John was completely dumbstruck. He had never expected such a behavior from the Sherlock he knew. Finally the men let go. 

„Take a seat, Sherlock. Way in the back. I’ll be with you in a moment.“  
Sherlock went past John, while the stylist locked the door and finally turned to face John.   
„Pardon me. I’m Majid. You must be John?“  
„Yes. Nice to meet you.“ They shook hands.   
„Please sit down next to Sherlock. I’ll bring some tea.“  
John went to take the seat next to Sherlock.   
„You seem to know each other very well“, John stated.  
„Like I said: Majid is an old friend.“ 

Sherlock looked at himself in the mirror. He hoped, Majid would be able to conjure something out of the remnants of his curls that were worth called a hairdo.

„Here’s your tea.“ Majid placed two small glasses onto the glass shelf beneath the huge mirror. Then he took his place behind Sherlock and smiled at him over the mirror.  
„So - who is responsible for this mess? You?“  
„No. The hair was… felted. John cut it. As best as he could,“ Sherlock answered, but not accusingly.   
„Hm… Very short in some places…“ Majid pulled a comb from the small bag at his hip and started to comb through Sherlock’s hair.   
„I have to cut everything rather short to equalize the irregular lengths. I can accentuate the neck a little more. And then you have to be patient, until your hair has grown back to its old length. Unless you want to wear it a little shorter. Which would really suit you. I’ve told you time and time before.“  
„And every time you get the same answer,“ Sherlock smiled.   
Majid smiled back. „Yeah, all right, I understand. Well - shall we begin?“  
„I trust you.“  
„Then let’s wash your hair.“

John remained in his seat, while Majid washed Sherlock’s hair. Their conversation was quiet and obviously intimate. In fact John heard them laugh softly several times. Eventually they came back to John. Sherlock’s baby bump was barely visible beneath the styling cape Majid had placed around his shoulders. Sherlock reached for his tea glass and took a sip. 

„Hm… you have to give me some of your mix again. Did you already try, John?“  
John automatically took his glass. Apart from black tea he could smell mint, too, and wasn’t sure if this could really taste good. But he was surprised after his first sip. The tea was strong, sweet and had indeed a little minty flavour. That was special.   
Majid observed John’s reaction. He laughed. „Most Brits react the way you do. But that’t the way we like our tea in Tunesia.“  
So that explained Majid’s origin. Majid had combed Sherlock’s hair again and started to cut it. 

„How’s Fatima?“ Sherlock asked.   
„Oh, you know her. Never mess with her.“

John listened to their conversation about people and events which were completely new to him. Majid worked with sure hands throughout the whole conversation. Now and again he stroked through Sherlock’s hair, shortened the neck even more with a razor and finally reached for a hair dryer. He finished the new style with a little wax, until he had created a rather short, but stylish hairdo. 

„Well? Okay for you?“ Majid asked. Sherlock bent forward to study his reflection in the mirror. Then he nodded, looking at Majid through the mirror.  
„Thank you,“ he just said. Majid put a hand on his shoulder.   
„You’re welcome, my friend. The wax is part of the service.“ He placed a brand new little can of wax onto the shelf in front of Sherlock.   
„What do I owe you?“  
Majid shook his head. „Don’t be absurd. We never did this before, we won’t start now. I’m just happy you’re still alive.“  
Sherlock smiled. Majid turned towards John.   
„And what about you? Since you’re already here - I have some time left.“

John was surprised, he hadn’t expected such an offer.   
„Oh, erm… I’m not sure…“ He automatically lifted his hand to run it over his hair. His last haircut had been many weeks ago, and John felt in fact a little like a shaggy dog.   
Majid laughed. „I see a call for action. Come on.“  
He took off Sherlock’s styling cape and put it around John’s shoulders. „I’ll get you another tea, okay?“

John didn’t have to pay, either. When he left the salon together with Sherlock, his friend seemed a little more comfortable.   
„Shall we fetch some takeaway from our favorite Thai?“ Sherlock asked, when they got onto a cab back to Marylebone.   
„If you like - sure. I can go buy something.“  
„I thought we could walk home from there. Will be a good exercise for me. I have to start somewhere.“  
John hesitated. But the way from their favorite Thai back to Baker Street would only take them five minutes.   
„Okay, if you want to.“ John told the cabbie the new address. 

The small shop was crowded like always, and there was a little queue. John wasn’t sure if Sherlock would be okay with that and kept a close eye on him.   
„Do you want to sit down? There’s a stool.“ John pointed to a free stool in a corner in front of the big shop window.   
„Nah, I’m fine.“ Sherlock was holding his mobile and concentrated on the screen. Distraction. John wasn’t stupid. At least the family, which owned this place, had everything under control. Waiting time was never long. When it was their time to order, John poked his friend in the side.  
„What do you want?“  
„Pad Thai with chicken. And mini spring rolls,“ Sherlock answered without looking up. John placed their order. Every now and again he looked over to Sherlock until Sherlock hummed: „Don’t worry. I’m fine. I won’t have a panic attack.“  
„Just wanted to make sure.“  
John smiled, when Sherlock shot him his usual „Don’t be an idiot“ glance. 

Twenty minutes later they sat in their living room, full plates in their hands. When the phone rang, Sherlock had his mouth full of noodles. Besides, he never answered the land line. John got up.   
„If you want normality, you can start and answer the damn phone.“  
Sherlock swallowed his noodles. „I never did before.“  
John gave him a stern look, then he picked up the phone.   
„Watson? Oh hi. That was fast. Didn’t you want to get in touch after the weekend? - Sure, just a moment.“ John handed the phone over to Sherlock.  
„Greg wants to talk to you.“  
Sherlock took the phone.   
„Well?“ he asked and listened for a moment. John sat back next to him on the sofa and put his plate on his lap. 

„I understand. When will you get in touch? - You know very well that I don’t have any other occupation at the moment. - When ever you like. Thank you.“   
Sherlock ended the call and gave the phone back to John. John shook his head and put the phone on the coffee table. „What did he say?“  
Sherlock picked up a piece of chicken.   
„The chief superintendent had a visitor. A young woman with dark hair and a dark coat and skirt. And he got a phone call.“  
John grinned. „Mycroft.“  
„Of course. He must have seen you meeting Lestrade and that he was here this morning. Lestrade is officially allowed to consult me and therefore you, too, for investigations.“ A broad grin now showed on Sherlock’s face.   
„That went much better than expected. Now you just have to lean back and wait, until Greg has a case for you.“  
„Hopefully I won’t have to lean back for long…“

„What are you doing?“ John asked alarmed the following Tuesday, when Sherlock passed him, wearing track bottoms, a sweatshirt and leather shoes. He had his Belstaff in one hand.   
„I’m visiting Scotland Yard. Lestrade has asked me to look at some case files.“  
„He did what? I can’t believe he ordered you in!“ John said much louder than necessary. Sherlock stopped in his tracks.   
„Well, he didn’t put it that way. He said he would bring me the files. I just want to spare him the time.“  
„And so you think you drive to the yard. In your condition. Are you out of your mind?“  
Sherlock’s gaze was cold.   
„What do you mean: In my condition? I’m fine. I even had breakfast. And don’t people say that pregnancy is no disease? Well, I agree. Other people work during pregnancy, too. Why shouldn’t I do it?“

At least two very good reasons came to John’s mind, named Anderson and Donovan. And even more equally good, who also worked for Scotland Yard - and didn’t like Sherlock very much. They would humiliate him. He, who had always seemed so above everything. Most of all carnal pleasures. Besides, the majority were Betas, and it was unlikely that anybody knew Sherlock was an Omega. 

„I’ll go with you,“ John decided and got up.   
„Why? It’s only paperwork. You won’t be helpful.“  
„Trust me, Sherlock, I will be very helpful. Even if I'm nothing more than your conductor of light,“ John growled. He had a very bad premonition. 

„Apart from that - do you want to go to the Yard dressed like this? And the coat is much too warm, you’ll get a heat stroke.“ John’s gaze wandered over Sherlock’s whole frame. Sherlock straightened his spine.   
„None of my other clothes fit me at the moment. As you very well know. At least I’m dressed at all. Or do you want me to go fetch a sheet? Maybe that would be the better choice for today's weather.“  
„Don’t you dare. But since we’re leaving the house, we can go shopping afterwards to get you new clothes.“  
„Not necessary. My condition, as you so nicely put it, is definitely temporary and will never occur again. Why should I invest time and money into clothes I will only be wearing for a few weeks?“ Sherlock walked towards the staircase.   
„Probably because you don’t have to really wear a sheet soon to leave the house? Your belly will still grow. Leave that coat, Sherlock!“

But Sherlock didn’t listen. He had put his coat over his forearm and held it in front of his baby bump, while he descended the stairs. John followed him hastily. Sherlock didn’t say anything more. The idea of wearing paternity clothes was… uncomfortable at best. But first of all the prospect of finally doing something different than watching telly, being bored and secretly researching about babies excited him. Finally some cases! Even if he wasn’t invited to a crime scene, yet, it was a great progress to be able to leave the house for something meaningful. The moment, Sherlock stepped onto the pavement, he lifted his arm for a cab. 

 

Naturally rumor had it in the offices of New Scotland Yard, that Sherlock Holmes was still alive and back in London. But nobody had seen him yet. And just like John had feared, all eyes were on them, when they made their way to Greg Lestrade’s office, walking past dozens of officers, who all knew them. When they had arrived at Scotland Yard, Sherlock had in fact put on his coat, but of course wasn’t able to close it. And although he had his hands in his pockets and tried to pull the fabric over his belly, it was obvious to see what was going on. Sherlock ignored all glanced that followed them. John, too, tried to look as composed as possible. 

Before they entered Greg’s department, John tried to steel himself for an unpleasant encounter. And in fact Sally Donovan was at her desk, working on a big pile of case files. She looked up, when the door was opened. And stared. Her gaze lingered on Sherlock’s bump under the grey sweatshirt, while Sherlock went towards the door of Greg Lestrade’s office. John already hoped they wouldn’t get a comment. But he was wrong. 

„If that’s not a surprise! You’re and even bigger freak than I always assumed,“ Sally snarled. Sherlock seemed to hesitate for an instant, but then went on. John would have loved to stop in his tracks to tell her what he thought about her opinion. But when Sherlock didn’t stop and opened the door to Greg’s office, he followed him in silence. 

Unfortunately Philip Anderson was in Lestrade’s office, when Sherlock and John entered. Both turned around. John clearly saw shock and surprise on Anderson’s face. Of course he had heard the rumors that Sherlock Holmes wasn’t dead. And the baby bump was like a magnet for Anderson’s gaze.

„Sherlock! I told you, I would come for a visit.“ Greg went towards them, casting a warning glance at his forensic scientist.   
„You shouldn’t have made the effort to come over,“ Greg said quietly and unmistakably queasy, while he offered Sherlock his hand.   
„I’m sure you have more than enough work, Lestrade. For which you need me. Obviously. Otherwise you wouldn’t have asked for my help. I just wanted to spare you a trip to Baker Street. And you can stop staring, Anderson.“

Philip Anderson had pulled himself back together by now. After Sherlock’s suicide he had had a bad conscience because of the not too small role he had played during Sherlock's last case together with Sally Donovan. It was a great part their fault, that Sherlock’s reputation had been destroyed and that in the end he had jumped off the roof of a hospital. However, his bad conscience had dissolved very quickly since he had heard just a few days ago that Sherlock was very much alive. Once again he felt outsmarted and still mistrusted the detective. Now more than ever, since his suicide had been faked. Who the hell did something like that? Just because he had appeared in a bad light he had pretended to throw himself off a roof out of shame and grief? And had let his friends mourn him? A freak. Clearly. 

And now the same freak popped up alive and kicking in Greg Lestrade’s office - and it turned out that he was in fact an Omega. And pregnant. Anderson felt a new wave of disgust rising.  
„I wouldn’t believe it, if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. You are an Omega?“ Anderson burst out before he could stop himself.   
„Obviously,“ Sherlock replied. Anderson’s presence didn’t make things easier.   
„And quite obviously, too, you are much more human than you want everyone to believe. Whom can we congratulate? Certainly not Dr. Watson.“ Anderson looked at John. Naturally this remark caused John’s rage to rise within seconds. Not only were his words absolutely inappropriate. It was no secret John was an empty Omega. He had never tried to hide it. But to confront him with his condition like Anderson had just done, was terribly embarrassing and compromising. Apparently, Anderson’s words disgusted Sherlock, too.

„If I was you, I would take my words back immediately. And apologize,“ Sherlock said quietly. His verdigris eyes were gleaming with suppressed anger.   
„If you were me? Since when do you know how to apologize? I never heard any apology from you.“ Anders crossed his arms over his chest.   
„That’s not up for debate. Your remark was very offending and absolutely inappropriate. You have no right to judge John in any way. And even less right to expose him in such a way.“  
„I didn’t say anything!“ Anderson tried to defend himself.   
„You didn’t say anything? May I quote: And quite obviously, too, you are much more human than you want everyone to believe. Whom can we congratulate? Certainly not Dr. Watson. Did I refresh your memory?“  
Sherlock had actually made a step towards Anderson and in doing so put himself between him and John - just like an Alpha trying to protect his Omega. Strangely enough, this was a behavior both Sherlock and John had already shown on different occasions. Greg had noticed it before. But Sherlock behaving like this even now, was extraordinary. A pregnant Omega was naturally reserved when it came to confrontations of any kind. 

Anderson, a Beta just like Greg, tried not to show how intimidating Sherlock’s behavior really was to him.   
„Everybody knows that and why Dr. Watson is unbonded,“ Anderson answered in a weak attempt to defend himself.   
„Anderson!“, Greg finally bellowed, „You better leave, now. Mr. Holmes and I have something to talk about. And you and me, we’ll talk later.“  
Anderson glared once again daggers at Sherlock and John, before he left Greg’s office and closed the door behind him. Through the glass door John could see him making a beeline to Donovan’s desk and bending towards her. John felt nothing but disgust for their disrespectful and inappropriate behavior. Didn’t these two have a bad conscience?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry updating takes me so long again. But I am really exhausted after a day at work and sometimes just want to spend the evening on the sofa, watching telly...

„I’m sorry, Sherlock. I’ll get back to Anderson later,“ Greg said and lifted his hands in an apologizing gesture.   
„It’s okay. I came on my own free will. I don’t care about Anderson’s opinion concerning me. But I won’t accept, when this man speaks like that about John.“ Sherlock’s disgust was clearly audible in his voice.   
„Sherlock - just let them talk. It’s only words,“ John said quietly and took a step closer to Sherlock. Sherlock unintentionally put his weight on his other foot and in doing so came closer to John.   
„Words can hurt, too. That’s a fact we all know,“ Sherlock answered, keeping a neutral facial expression, „And besides - you would react the same way if it was me.“  
„Of course I would.“  
Both exchanged a long look. Greg was fascinated, like always, from the intensity of the gazes between John and Sherlock. It had been like this from the start. And he was relieved to see, that this hadn’t changed a bit. After all Sherlock had faked his suicide. That wasn’t something you swallowed easily. But John didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Good for their friendship. 

„So - what cases do you have for me, Lestrade?“ Sherlock finally asked and observed Greg intently.   
„No really cold cases. Some of them are actually quiet new and… kind of urgent. Do you want to take the files with you?“  
„Why should I? Is there still this little conference room at the end of the corridor?“  
Greg nodded.   
„Well, then we’ll use it.“ Sherlock already left Greg’s office and went down the corridor with long, confident strides. John and Greg exchanged a look. Then John shrugged. „Some things never change. Where are the files?“

Fortunately the conference room had an air condition. After they had closed the door behind them, Sherlock had immediately taken off his coat. It was August, more than 25 degrees celsius outside, and the news had already announced increasing temperatures for the next days. John saw beads of sweat on Sherlock’s forehead - despite the air condition. Because of the pregnancy Sherlock already felt much warmer than usual. John drew some water from a dispenser in a corner of the conference room and put the cup in front of Sherlock. But Sherlock was so immersed in the study of his case files, that he didn’t even notice. John had to nudge him. 

„Drink something. I don’t want you to have a circulatory disturbance.“  
„Don’t distract me, John,“ Sherlock mumbled and turned over a page.   
„Sherlock - I’m serious. Drink something.“  
Sherlock growled, but took the paper cup and emptied it in two big gulps.   
„Fetch me some post-its and a pen,“ he said, when he put the cup down, „Or even better: get Lestrade. Then I can tell him directly, where he and his lot did miss every obvious clue.“  
John sighed. „Don’t ruin everything again on your first day, okay? Be back in a minute.“

Sherlock worked his way further through the case files, but flinched, when he heard the door behind his back being opened. He immediately rose from his chair and turned towards the door. John, who just entered the room with Greg, couldn’t miss this reaction. Sherlock wasn’t even close to being able to tick off and forget everything he had experienced.   
„Here I am, Sherlock. I’m listening.“ Greg came closer, a writing pad, some post-its and a notebook in his hands.   
„Where do you want to start?“ Sherlock asked very casually and put his hands behind his back. One of his well known gestures when he was working. Greg had to suppress a smile.   
„Cooper Sedgewick. Have you already read the file?“  
Sherlock smiled. „Really, Lestrade. You can call yourself very happy, that I’m finally back.“

The next hour was a Sherlock Holmes one man show. Sherlock was practically beaming, while he worked his way through each and every file, delivered evidences, adjusted conclusions and criticized the crime scene specialists. At the end of his many statements, Greg had enough material for days of investigative work to proof and fortify Sherlock’s statements. Hopefully all this would result in arrests and imprisonments. When John handed Sherlock more water, Sherlock drank it without thinking about it and looked very smug. 

Sherlock felt like he was floating on a cloud of euphoria on his way back out. It had felt so very good to be able to work again! And Greg had promised him to even invite him to crime scenes again. It felt a little indecent to wish for a gruesome murder. But Sherlock’s guilt about this feeling was only marginal. If he was able to work, he would somehow be able to endure the time unto the birth of the twins. With work and John’s help. 

John’s words pulled him out of his thoughts, when they entered the lift, that would bring them back down.   
„Since we’re already out and about, we should buy you some new clothes. You don’t want to pop up at your first crime scene since last year in track pants, don’t you?“  
John wasn’t sure if his plan would work out. Sherlock hadn’t had any problems to show up in Buckingham palace dressed in just a sheet. But he had only done that to upset Mycroft. Usually he paid much attention to his appearance whenever he left the house. That he had gone to Scotland Yard today in track pants and a sweater showed John, how desperate Sherlock’s wish for distraction really was. 

For a few seconds Sherlock showed no reaction and didn’t respond either. John knew him well enough to realize, that Sherlock was at least considering John’s suggestion. The lift doors opened, and they went towards the exit. Sherlock lifted his arm for a cab, but didn’t say a word. Until he told the cabbie the address, and John suppressed a grin. They would throw themselves into the turmoil of Regent Street. 

Sherlock’s gaze wandered through the entire department of paternity clothes for male Omegas at a gentlemen’s outfitter. He sighed theatrically. „I do realize that I don’t have a choice. But honestly, I dread trying on these clothes…“  
„Let’s take a look, first. I’m sure they have loads of good suits.“  
Sherlock made a disapproving sound. „This expense is a colossal waste of money. I will never ever wear these clothes again.“  
„And still you need some. Come on, let’s take a look.“ John swiftly went ahead, while Sherlock followed a little more slowly. He felt uncomfortable. Maybe he should have ordered something online at random. In the meantime John had reached a corner with business attire. Different outfits were displayed on dummies, and Sherlock felt sick. Did he look like this already? He looked down at himself. The waistband of his track pants sat low beneath his baby bump. The sweater he wore above was a leftover from a case and had always been too big for him. On purpose, of course. But now the fabric stretched over his baby bump. 

Sherlock automatically lifted his arm, trying to cover his middle with his coat, which he had just put over his forearm. He hadn’t dared to put the coat on. It was in fact much to warm for the thick wool. 

„This will grow with your bump,“ John said now. He had taken a pair of trousers from a hanger and presented them to Sherlock. They were regular dress trousers, but with a broad waistband made of an elastic fabric. Sherlock pulled a face.   
„That looks horrible.“  
„You’ll still be wearing a shirt above it.“   
„Can I help you, gentlemen?“ A young man approached them. John and Sherlock turned towards him. Sherlock eyed the vendor up and down: Omega, freshly bonded, desperately wishing for children. When the young man saw Sherlock’s baby bump, his professional smile changed into a real one.   
„Congratulations, Sir! What can I do for you?“  
Sherlock was about to utter a snide remark, but John was quicker. „Well, my friend is looking for some new attire. Obviously.“  
The young man laughed quietly. „Of course. For what occasion?“  
„Um… nearly every occasion? Definitely one or two suits, matching dress shirts and maybe two or three pyjamas. Right, Sherlock?“ John gently nudged Sherlock’s side. Sherlock pulled himself together and put on a small smile.   
„Exactly. Thank you, John.“  
„My pleasure. May I ask when your child is to be born?“  
Sherlock swallowed. He hadn’t memorized the due date yet. When John realized, that Sherlock wouldn’t be able to answer this question, he quickly helped out: „The twelfth of December. But he’s expecting twins.“  
„Twins! Then I have to congratulate a second time.“ The vendor seemed to be delighted. The openly displayed joy of one Omega for the other made Sherlock squirm. He only nodded once and said: „Could we just… start choosing clothes? We have another appointment today, have we, John?“  
„Um… Yes, you’re right. Let’s start with a suit.“

Sherlock and John spent the next hour choosing everything Sherlock needed. At the end Sherlock pulled out a credit card. John was able to read the name on the front and suppressed a smile: Mycroft Holmes. They left the store with two big bags full of clothes. Sherlock took a deep breath.   
„That was hell. I should have offered the young man and his bond mate to volunteer for the adoption of the twins,“ Sherlock said.  
„Sherlock! Don’t say something like that!“ John was shocked.   
„Why, it’s true. He wants children, I have some to give away, soon. Don’t give me that look and don’t pretend to be surprised. My decision is fix. And this Omega in there is desperate for children.“

John bit his bottom lip to keep himself from saying something wrong. Sherlock cast a glance at him, when he sensed that John felt uncomfortable. And he also felt that his remark had hurt John on a personal level.   
„Let’s go home. You should get some rest,“ John said. He went to the edge of the pavement and lifted his hand for a cab. Sherlock followed him, but stopped a step behind John. He was sorry for his remark. He really should pay more attention to what he was saying in John’s presence. John was so easy to read… Sherlock still couldn’t understand John’s desire for own children. But he shouldn’t provoke him more than necessary. He stepped next to John with a sigh and lifted his hand, too. Two more cabs passed them, but the next one was free and stopped for them. 

„Baker Street, please,“ John ordered. He turned and looked out of the window. He didn’t want to talk to Sherlock right now. Every time Sherlock talked about giving the children up for adoption, John’s heart felt heavy in his chest. Sherlock was talking about his own children! His children, his flesh and blood! On the other hand… John had no idea how he himself would react if their roles were reversed. Maybe he would feel the same like Sherlock. After all Sherlock had endured, it had been a tough decision for him to decide against an abortion and put the lives of his unborn children over his own. At least until they were born. John knew, he should be thankful for that. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sherlock shifted around in his seat and finally put a hand onto his belly. 

„Are you alright?“ John asked.   
„Yes. They move heavily.“  
„You didn’t eat and drink enough today. I’ll make you something once we’re home.“  
„You don’t have to. I can make something myself.“  
For once John didn’t object, which Sherlock couldn’t fail to notice. Oh. John was in fact in a bad mood. So Sherlock decided to stay silent. He, too, looked out of the window, while inside his belly the babies were moving. He had grown used to this strange feeling, and he already felt the babies getting stronger. He surely would be able to feel their movements from the outside, soon. His thoughtless remark from a few minutes earlier to give the children to the young Omega in the shop still bothered him. And not only because of John, he had to admit to himself. Sherlock longed for the day when this nightmare would finally be over. But at the same time he was unsure how it would feel to give the children away. It surely would be best not to see them at all after they were born. They should be with their new parents as quickly as possible. It would be the best for the children, too, to immediately form a connection to their new family. Their new family… Sherlock swallowed and took his hand away from his belly. He pushed it beneath his coat, that was lying next to him on the seat, and made a fist. Why did this happen to him? Why had he to go through all of this shit?

When they arrived at Baker Street, Sherlock brought his new clothes into his room but sorted some out for the dry cleaner. He never wore new dress shirts before giving them away for cleaning. Hopefully John would do that for him. When Sherlock emerged from his room, John had made himself a cup of tea and went past him, cup in his hand.   
„I’m upstairs. Call me, if you need anything.“  
Sherlock nodded silently. John left the kitchen. Sherlock listened to his steps retreat upstairs to his bedroom. He sighed. John didn’t make tea for Sherlock, he realized. He was clearly upset about the situation. So Sherlock made himself some tea, too, and put some leftover lasagna from yesterday into the microwave to heat it. 

John came back downstairs two hours later. Sherlock sat at the desk with his laptop.   
„I go to the shops. Do you need anything?“ John asked curtly. Sherlock shook his head without taking his gaze from his monitor. John hesitated for a second, but then took two bags out of a kitchen drawer and left. When Sherlock heard the front door, he closed his laptop and went downstairs. He knocked at Mrs. Hudson’s door. 

When Mrs. Hudson opened, she smiled at him. „Sherlock, what a nice coincidence. I just thought about you and wanted to bring up some shortbread.“  
„Can I come in, Mrs. Hudson?“  
„Oh you silly boy, of course.“ She stepped aside to let Sherlock through. She gently rubbed his back, while they went into the kitchen. It was just a little kitchen with only two chairs at the table.   
„Sit down, my dear.“  
Sherlock took his usual seat at the table and expected Mrs. Hudson to make some tea. But instead she put a full bottle of milk and two glasses onto the table next to a huge cookie jar. Mrs. Hudson saw the confusion in Sherlock’s face.   
„Too much tea is not good for you now. And the babies need calcium.“ She poured them both a glass of milk and pushed one of them into Sherlock’s direction before opening the cookie jar.   
„Help yourself.“

Sherlock immediately remembered his childhood days. He took a piece of shortbread and dipped it into his milk before taking a bite. As usual he wasn’t able to entirely suppress his fondness for sweets. And right now, when he was feeling so horrible, his sweet tooth was impossible to resist.   
„Did you fight?“ Mrs. Hudson asked.   
„Not really. But… I think I hurt John with a remark I made. About the babies.“  
Sherlock told Mrs. Hudson in just a few words what had happened. Mrs. Hudson nibbled on a piece of shortbread and let him talk. She had always been a person of trust for Sherlock and was secretly proud about it. Sherlock was, like he was. He rarely opened up to other people. He even excluded her from time to time, and talking about his feelings had always been difficult for Sherlock. After he had ended, Mrs. Hudson sighed. 

„John will understand. You didn’t say that to hurt him. He will calm down.“  
„Of course he will. But… I seldom have a guilty conscience. Why always when it is about John? What's so different about him? Why do I care what he thinks about me? And why am I sorry, when I hurt him?“  
„That’s how friendship works. It’s called love, Sherlock,“ Mrs. Hudson smiled. Sherlock blushed. He lifted his glass and drank his milk in big gulps. This big word in combination with John and himself embarrassed him. Even more, because Mrs. Hudson had unintentionally revealed what Sherlock really felt for John. 

„Why are you here, dear? You know very well why your words have hurt John.“  
Sherlock sighed. „Because of that. But John… he told me he wanted to start working again. You know he just did holiday replacements in different surgeries lately. I even told him to start working again. And I mean it. He’s spending so much time for me. But I’m already much better. He has to think about his own needs again. And I have to… learn to get along on my own again. But…“ Sherlock studied the floral pattern of Mrs. Hudson’s tablecloth. „But I don’t know if I can already make it through a whole day all on my own.“

He remembered the horrible evening when John had met with Greg Lestrade. It hadn’t been the first time Sherlock had been alone at Baker Street. But not in the evening and not for more than about one and a half hours. It was still bothering him, that he had felt this fear for so long for no real reason.   
„And John… sleeps in my bed with me at the moment. At first he had insisted to be with me, if I needed something during the night and had slept in his armchair next to me. Until I told him he could share my bed with me. But we can’t sleep together for the rest of our days.“  
„But you still have nightmares, don’t you?“  
Sherlock nodded. It was difficult to think about the things that disturbed his sleep during daytime. The nightmares had become a little less frequent, but Sherlock still dreamt about Serbia. He still saw the faces of the men who had hurt and abused him.   
„Don’t you want to talk to someone who knows something about this kind of things? One can’t process something like that without help. Not even you.“  
Sherlock didn’t answer. He’d had enough conversations and sessions with so called professionals about his own life, and it never really helped him. In his various drug withdrawals and times in different hospitals nobody had ever been able to gain his trust. And Sherlock had always thought to know best what was good for him. What caused his problems. And that only he himself was able to fully understand what was going on within him. And he was probably right. 

„Sherlock…“ Mrs. Hudson reached across the table and put her small, warm hand over Sherlock’s. Sherlock looked up. Mrs. Hudson was one of the very little trustworthy people in his life. He had developed a deep affection for her and would literally do everything for her.   
„It hurts me to see you like this. I only want you to get better. Don’t put all the load onto your and John’s shoulders. You two can do much, but you can’t do everything. Think about talking to someone else. Maybe inspector Lestrade knows someone you can talk to.“  
Sherlock saw how worried his landlady was for him. It was remarkable that she of all people seemed to understand much better than others how Sherlock’s mind worked and how he really was. Maybe it was her life experience and her own past. Sherlock had to smile, and Mrs. Hudson returned it.   
„When ever you need something, you know where to find me. Once John starts working again, you come to me, if you feel the need to. I’ll have time for you. Always.“  
„Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.“  
„No need to thank me. Another glass of milk?“  
„No, thanks. I… I think I’ll go back upstairs.“ Sherlock rose from his chair.   
„Take the cookie jar with you. I made too much. Like always,“ Mrs Hudson smiled. She put the lid back on the jar. Sherlock chuckled and took it. „Thanks.“  
She smiled at him and accompanied him to her door.


	21. Chapter 21

John came back soon. Sherlock was standing at the window and saw him coming. He had just put his violin back into its case. It had been the first time he had tried to play the violin again. But playing the strings still hurt. And so Sherlock had wistfully put the violin back into the case. Now he turned around and went towards John, who just happened to open the door to the flat.   
John smiled at him, while he went into the kitchen and put down the shopping bags.   
„I thought about making pizza. You can help me with the topping,“ John announced. Little beads of sweat were visible on his forehead. The temperatures had in fact climbed a few more degrees. It was warm enough in the flat for Sherlock to wander around barefoot, wearing just a flimsy t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. He, too, was sweating. 

„It’s nearly 85 ° F outside and you want to use the oven?“ Sherlock smiled. John had already started to unpack the shopping and paused. He looked up, a red and a yellow pepper in his hands. Their eyes met, and then they both started to laugh. Sherlock was glad to hear John laughing. He seemed to be back to his usual self. Sherlock entered the kitchen to take the peppers from John’s hands. He put his hands over John’s, and John looked at him.   
„I’m sorry I snapped at you,“ John said.   
„No, it’s okay. I understand. It was my fault,“ Sherlock answered. He let his fingertips glide over the backs of John’s hands before taking the peppers from him and went to the fridge.   
„If you really want to heat the flat up even more, then go on.“  
„So that’s settled and you can help me.“  
„Help with what? Slicing peppers? Are you serious?“  
John laughed. „Dead serious!“

Later the same evening when they had finished eating their pizza and were sat on the sofa together to watch telly, Sherlock’s phone rang. John muted the telly and went to fetch Sherlock his phone. Sherlock sighed, when he saw the number.   
„Mycroft… tell him I don’t want to talk to him.“ He handed the phone back to John. John rolled hist eyes.   
„Do you really want to play this game again?“ But then he took the call.  
„This is John. Sherlock doesn’t want to talk to you.“  
„He has to. Good evening, Dr. Watson. I’m calling to tell him that he is expected for an interrogation tomorrow. His testimony is to be taken concerning the events in Serbia. I can’t spare him this interrogation.“  
An icy shiver crept over John’s skin. This would be hard on Sherlock. „When and where?“  
„My driver will collect him at 10:30 and take him to MI6.“  
John took a deep breath. „Just a moment, Mycroft.“ He offered the phone to Sherlock.  
„You should talk to him. It’s about your testimony about Serbia. You’re expected at MI6 tomorrow morning.“

Sherlock lifted his gaze and looked at John for a moment, obviously trying to process what he had just heard. When he reached for his phone, his hand was steady. But John saw the expression on Sherlock’s face. He lifted the phone to his ear.  
„Why do I have to go to MI6? - It shouldn’t be a problem to do it here. - No, Mycroft, but I am not very keen, either. - That’s what I’m expecting. And you can expect, that John surely wants to accompany me. - Oh don’t give me that.“ He ended the call and handed the phone back to John, avoiding his gaze. John put it onto the coffee table and didn’t know what to say. He finally cleared his throat and sat down next to Sherlock again.

„Of course I’m going with you,“ he said. Sherlock kept on staring into nothing. He wouldn’t see his tormentors. But he would have to give testimony about everything that had happened. In detail. Sure, it would mostly be about Moriarty and his criminal network. But he would have to talk about all the other horrible things that had happened. And he dreaded it.   
„Hey - I’ll be there for you. And I’ll interfere, if it becomes too much for you. Promised.“  
„I have to get this over with. So I can finally close this chapter.“  
John didn’t say anything to that, because he knew Sherlock wouldn’t be able to forget everything. Not as long as he was still pregnant with his tormentor’s children. Sherlock reached for the remote and unmuted the telly. But neither of them was able to follow the program anymore. They were both thinking about the interrogation tomorrow. 

 

Sherlock sat very straight, his hands folded in his lap. Even if one didn’t know him, it was easy to see how stressed he was.   
„This is a private hearing, Mr. Holmes. And in consideration of your condition we’ll make it as short as possible. If something’s wrong, don’t hesitate to tell us. We can interrupt at any point.“ The nice words from agent Hollister burned like acid. Of course they looked at him with pity because of what had happened to him. The medical reports had already been sent to be added to the paperwork. Everybody in this room knew, what had happened to him. They just didn’t know the details how it had happened. And that was going to change now. 

„I’m fine. Let’t start. I don’t have all the time in the world, I had other plans for today.“  
John cast a quick glance at Sherlock. Sherlock didn’t even have to persist that John could accompany him into the interrogation room. Apparently Mycroft had already passed along the information. On one hand, Sherlock was glad, John was with him. But on the other hand he had realized during a sleepless night, that John would now get to know what exactly happened in every cruel detail. Everything he had refused to talk about until today. That’s what scared him most. How would John react? But going through this interrogation without the presence of his best friend was unthinkable. 

Sherlock had moved his chair close to John’s. The presence of his friend helped a bit. Sherlock had spent much time to get ready today. Even though they hand’t been dry-cleaned, he was wearing one of the new shirts and suits. There was no chance to hide his baby bump in this attire. But for Sherlock it created an illusion of his former image, even if it was a fleeting one. The babies inside him had been agitated the whole morning. Even now he very distinctly felt them moving. A proof for his own stress. He put his right hand on his belly and took a deep breath.   
„I don’t have the whole day. Shall we start?“ Sherlock asked and looked at the two agents in front of him. They had introduced themselves as Agent Hollister and Agent Sanders. Hollister was probably John’s age, surely still on active duty. Sanders was a little older and looked more like he spent most of his time in an office than at his desk. Between them on a table was a recorder, and a small black camera was installed in one corner of the room. Agent Sanders hadn’t said anything other than his name and remained silent for now. Agent Hollister started the interrogation. 

At first he asked Sherlock about all the things Sherlock had already told John about. Richard Brook’s real identity. James Moriarty and his network. Sherlock’s faked suicide. His first months undercover, how he had uncovered the extent of Moriarty’s schemes bit by bit. Sherlock told everything exceptionally calm and without any snide remarks. John was surprised, how calm Sherlock really seemed. No question provoked a sarcastic comment, he didn’t insult the agents and didn’t correct them either. Then finally Agent Sanders asked his first question.

„Your brother sent us your medical reports, since you agreed with it. You are recovering well, Mr. Holmes?  
Sherlock turned towards Agent Sanders. John saw a corner of his mouth twitch a little. „I’m feeling fine.“  
„Are your children well, too?“  
„The children have developed normally and seem to be in good health.“  
„Mr. Holmes, I’m sorry, but we must ask you to identify the men that were arrested in Serbia. The Serbians remain in their country and will be put on trial there. Colonel Sebastian Moran and David Cunningham are British citizens and will face their trial here in London. But we need you to validate that all these men were your captors and what exactly they did to you.“

Agent Sanders bent down to a briefcase next to him to take a folder out. John looked at Sherlock. Sherlock pressed his lips together. Sanders took a stack of photos out of the folder and spread them on the table around the recorder. Sherlock’s breathing became a little laboured. John put a hand on Sherlock’s forearm. „You can stop anytime and have a little break, Sherlock.“  
Sherlock nodded and stared at the photos. He felt sweat breaking out. An unwanted reaction he couldn’t control. It was something completely different to see the faces of his tormentors on photos and not only in his mind during his dreams. It was worse than he had expected. He tried to breathe calmly. 

„I only saw Sebastian Moran once during my captivity. He only hit me once, gave me a hard slap to the face. It was only a few minutes I saw him.“ Sherlock forced his gaze to the next photo.   
„David Cunningham. He was there multiple times. One of Moriarty’s most important contacts working for him in eastern Europe. He…“ Sherlock swallowed. His mouth was dry.   
„Can I have some water?“, he asked and closed his eyes for a second.   
„Of course. Do you need a break, Mr. Holmes?“ asked Agent Sanders, while his colleague left the room.  
„I want this to be over as soon as possible.“

„Excuse my, but how detailed has Mr. Holmes’ testimony have to be?“ John jumped in. His hand, still on Sherlock’s forearm by now, went to his back and rubbed small soothing circles.   
„I am sorry, but I need more details. I can’t spare you my questions, Mr. Holmes. I know how hard that must be on you. I’ve been an agent for many years. I can assure you I know what you have to go through right now. But if you want these man to be sentenced, then I need your testimony.“  
Agent Hollister came back, a bottle of water and paper cups in his hands. He poured Sherlock some water. Sherlock’s hand shook a little, when he took the cup and emptied it. John wished he could spare him this burden. And he actually dreaded the next night. He didn’t miss that Sherlock hadn’t sleep last night. The next one wouldn’t be better. Not good…

Sherlock put the cup on the table and took a deep breath. Then he pointed to the different photos and began to talk, his voice steady, telling everything that had happened and who had done it to him. John observed him closely. He was able to see, that Sherlock was only partly here. He extracted the information he needed from his memory like reading a text. He dissociated himself from everything he had endured. 

John felt warmer with every of Sherlock’s words. He opened his shirt collar, drank some water and tried to tame the furios rage that started to grow. Sherlock gave his report in cruel detail. Agent Sanders only had to interrupt three times for more details, which Sherlock gave willingly. John had his hands balled up to fists in his lap until his knuckles went white. What Sherlock had endured was horrible. And everybody in this room was very aware, that it could have ended much worse. Some people would come out of such a situation broken in body and soul, some even missing limbs. But this was about his best friend, and John wished he had been able to lay his hands on only one of the men who had done this to Sherlock. His medical degree would enable him to do unspeakable things. John was afraid of himself in this very moment. Oh god, what was he thinking?!

Sherlock felt and smelled how tense John was. John was furious, so furious. And desperate. Sherlock would have felt the same, if he were John. But he forced himself to concentrate on just listing the facts. He was able to separate the facts from what he was feeling - as long as he concentrated hard enough. But he felt sick. Really sick, like he could throw up every minute. He wanted this to be over as soon as possible. He would have preferred to erase everything directly afterwards. But he knew, there would be a trial. And he would be the key witness. Until then, he would somehow have to deal with the memories. It was a strange feeling to listen to himself, telling everything that had been done to him. Distancing himself from his memories was the only way at the moment to tell these agents, thankfully both Betas, how often and by whom he had been beaten and raped. 

When Sherlock finally ended, there was a moment of silence. Agent Hollister seemed to be much more affected than agent Sanders. It was the latter who ended the meeting.   
„I think we have everything we need. We’ll write the minutes based in your testimonial. If you would just sign here that your testimony was declared truthfully, then we are finished.“  
Sanders placed a pen and some papers on the table. Sherlock signed them without reading.  
„Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Holmes. I know how hard this must have been for you. All the best and get well, soon.“  
Sherlock nodded his thanks. When he got up, John jumped to his feet, too. They took their leave, and agent Hollister accompanied them through the MI6 building. When they passed the restrooms, Sherlock pulled John’s sleeve. John understood.   
„Just a second, agent Hollister. If you could excuse us for a moment…“ John said and made a gesture towards the door of the restrooms.  
„No problem. I’ll wait.“

John and Sherlock entered the restrooms and were glad to find them empty. Sherlock swallowed a few times, then he hurried into one of the stalls and locked the door behind him. John turned towards the row of sinks. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked pretty rough. Sighing, he turned on the tap and washed his hands. He felt filthy. All these details… 

Sherlock rested his back against the door of the stall and fought the nausea that was threatening to overcome him, but he had no chance. He only just managed to lift the lid of the toilet, before he started to retch. He had only had a small breakfast, so he very soon only brought up fluid. But he couldn’t stop the heavy retching. Tears were streaming down his face while he tried to breathe. John knocked on the door.   
„Do you need help?“  
Sherlock’s heart ached for a moment. John had listened to everything. He now knew in every cruel detail, what had been done to Sherlock. Sherlock was on an emotional rollercoaster. Of course he had been glad that John had been with him. His presence had staved much of the stress off. But now Sherlock asked himself, what John was thinking about him - now that he knew everything. Would he only have pity for him? Consider him weak, because he hadn’t fought more? Because he hadn’t made an earnest try to escape? Sherlock felt like crying, but he regained control. Had he started crying now, he wouldn’t have been able to stop. And he was so scared of the trial…

„Sherlock?“ John knocked again. He heard Sherlock breathing heavily.   
„Sherlock, please… let me help.“  
„I’m coming. Just a moment…“ Sherlock choked out. He straightened himself up, leaned against the door of the stall and tried to fight away the tears. He took deep breaths, then ripped a long stripe of toilet paper from the roll to wipe tears and spit from his face. He threw it into the toilet and flushed it. 

When he opened the door, John stood in front of him, concerned, spots of red on his face.   
„Feeling better?“ John asked quietly. Sherlock nodded. He went past him to the sinks to wash his hands and face and rinse his mouth. When he straightened up, John handed him some paper towels from a dispenser. When Sherlock turned towards him, his eyes were rimmed red, he sniffled.   
„I’m sorry…“  
„No need to apologize.“ John gently rubbed Sherlock’s arm. Sherlock finally nodded.   
„I want to go home. But I don’t think I can ride in a car, yet. Let’s take a walk and a taxi later.“  
„What ever you want.“

They left the MI6 building. Mycroft’s chauffeur was still waiting for them. John told him, that his services were no longer needed and bid his greetings to Mycroft. Then they slowly walked towards Vauxhall bridge. Sherlock stopped in the middle of the bridge. The sun was already high, barely visible through the clouds, and it was really warm. John, only in Jeans, a dress shirt and tie, was sweating. It must have been worse for Sherlock, who wore his formal suit, but he didn’t complain. Sherlock leaned put his hands on the railing and looked into the direction of Westminster. The London Eye was just visible from here. John stepped next to him. He, too, looked along the River Thames. 

„I missed London. There were times when I wasn’t sure if I would ever see it again…“ Sherlock said quietly, while behind their backs cars were running over the bridge, their sound nearly drowning out Sherlock’s words.   
„I’m glad your back where you belong,“ John answered without looking at his friend.   
„Did you ever recognize the eight statues attached to the bridge?“ Sherlock asked suddenly.   
„Hm?“  
„Four on each side of the bridge. They represent different branches of science.“ Sherlock began to walk along the bridge and crossed it, when he had the opportunity. John followed him without thinking.   
„This one is for architecture. Can you see, what the statue is holding in their hand?“  
John cast a sceptical look at Sherlock. „You trying to pull my leg again?“  
„No. I can’t lean over the railing with the bump. Take a look.“  
John hesitated, but then he leaned over the railing. And had to smile.  
„Is that…“  
„St. Paul’s cathedral,“ Sherlock confirmed.   
John examined the statue as far as he could see it, laughing. And yes, indeed, the statue was balancing a small model of the famous cathedral on their hand.   
„That’s crazy.“ John turned back to Sherlock and smiled at him.   
„How can you remember such things? The earth going around the sun is something you forget.“ That was not true, of course. He knew that. Sherlock had deleted this information. He didn’t deem it important for his work, if the sun went around the earth or whether it was the other way round. Even if the position of the sun could sometimes give him clues for the work. So he had made space for information he considered more important. But Sherlock went with John’s joke.   
„Deleted, John. Not forgotten. My hard drive is too precious to clog it up with irrelevant information.“  
„That’s in the eye of the beholder. Anyway, your hard drive is a real marvel. How much space do I occupy in your hard drive?“ John’s question was meant as friendly bickering. But Sherlock turned towards him now and looked at him. John turned his face, to look at him, too.  
„More than you can imagine, John.“ Sherlock’s gaze was so intense, that John had to swallow.   
„In Serbia… I hung onto many memories of you. It helped me more than you can ever know,“ Sherlock admitted. There was a moment of silence between them. People went by, both of them didn’t notice any of them. 

„I am glad, if I was helpful. Even if it was just a little bit,“ John said finally.   
„Very,“ Sherlock answered.   
John nodded. They stood for a long moment, looking at each other, until John finally broke eye contact.   
„Let’s go home, you have to rest a bit. Do you want to take a nap, once we’re home?“  
Sherlock shook his head, but turned with John to leave the bridge. They crossed the street again at the end of the bridge and headed towards Westminster.  
„How is your stomach? Do feel a little better?“ John asked, while they followed the path next to the river.   
„I’m okay. But don’t ask me if I want to eat something, when we’re home. You can make some tea, though.“  
„Very well, your highness.“  
Sherlock nudged John in the ribs. Both chuckling and glad to get rid of the tension, they went towards the houses of parliament. Before they finally reached the area around Westminster palace, Sherlock decided to take a cab for the rest of the way. 

Back at Baker street Sherlock changed into pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt and occupied his usual place on the sofa. John made him some tea, which Sherlock accepted with a small smile. John left him alone and sat down in his arm chair with a book. He really tried to read, but wasn’t able to concentrate. His thoughts returned to Sherlock’s testimony at MI6 again and again. John was afraid to be haunted by it in his dreams. And asked himself, how Sherlock would feel. How long until his painfully kept up facade would start to crumble? How long until he would finally break down? John feared this moment. He looked over to Sherlock. His friend had put down his mug onto the floor and had turned onto his side. He had in fact fallen asleep. John was glad for him. Because he feared, that Sherlock wouldn’t be able to find sleep tonight. So it was a good thing he was able to sleep now, even if was only for an hour or two.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the nice comments, they did wonders for me. I'm not feeling very well at the moment, and I really needed some encouragment to finally translate and post the next chapter. And I promise to keep posting, even if it takes some time. Thanks so much for your support! It means so much to me!

Sherlock woke after an hour but didn’t seem to be recovered in any way. He retreated back to his microscope in silence. He was in no good mood and complained, John would disturb his concentration, when John started to prepare something to eat. John ignored his complaints. He knew, Sherlock didn’t feel well. He remained grumpy and mostly silent, until Greg Lestrade visited them in the evening. He told him about the cold cases Sherlock had looked at yesterday. And he asked for his opinion in a new case, which Sherlock was more than glad to give. Of course he reminded Greg, that he was more than willing to visit a crime scene and that Greg shouldn’t be too considerate about his pregnant state. Greg registered it, thanked him, and the two were alone again. 

The night went exactly like John had expected. Sherlock didn’t find any sleep. Every time he dozed off, he was woken by memories. John on his part didn’t find any peace, because Sherlock’s turning and startling disturbed him, as well. They were both in a bad mood the next morning. Lack of sleep made them both impatient and hypersensitive. Eventually John left the flat, his job applications in hand. He wanted to hand them over himself, take a first look at the surgeries. Maybe the positions were already occupied or not his kind of thing. But nevertheless he wanted to hand over his applications. And Sherlock was right: they couldn’t go on like this - spending the rest of their lives so close together. So John was glad to be able to get out for a few hours. Though he had his hand on his mobile for the whole time. He wanted to be available, should Sherlock need him. 

John was able to talk to the doctor of the second surgery he visited. The job was scheduled to begin in two weeks. It was only a stand in for two weeks, but it was paid well. The doctor was a very nice man, the surgery on the small side with not too many patients. It was the ideal job for John: not too much stress, a good work schedule and well paid. And John had two more weeks time until he had to start working. John didn’t hesitate much: he agreed. And Sherlock had advised him to start working again, after all. It would be fine. And they had some time left before the job started. Feeling good and with a working contract in his backpack, John went back to Baker Street. 

Sherlock was standing at the kitchen counter, when John came home. He had just spread some honey onto a slice of toast.   
„I have a job,“ John stated, while he poured himself a glass of water from the tap. Sherlock’s hand with the honey coated knife lowered slowly.   
„When?“ he asked.   
„In two weeks. I’ll spend some hours prior to see how they work. The job is scheduled for two weeks. A general practitioner. Nice man. Made a good first impression.“  
„Your working hours?“  
„From nine to six on Monday and Thursday, from seven to four on the other three days. One hour lunch break.“   
Sherlock nodded. „Okay.“ He dipped his knife back into the honey jar, spread some more onto his bread and licked the remaining honey from the knife’s blade.   
„Sherlock…“ John chided with a smile. Sherlock just shrugged. He tried to remain unaffected. But knowing that John would work again made him feel uneasy. Of course he knew they spent too much time too close together. But this change wouldn’t be easy for him and would be stressful, too: knowing he wouldn’t be able to call John whenever he wanted and being home alone for whole days. He would have to find something to occupy himself during John’s working hours. 

„You’re okay with that?“, John asked.   
„Of course. We talked about it. It’s fine. And talking about it…“  
Sherlock worked up his courage. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to change anything about it. Nevertheless he said: „Maybe you should sleep in your own room again. I’m feeling much better. It’s unlikely I’m going to need help during the night. And when you have to get up early for work, you’ll need a good night’s sleep.“  
„You have never disturbed my sleep, Sherlock.“ John felt a little torn. Of course Sherlock was right. They were both grown men, friends, flatmates. No matter how much John felt for his best friend, it wasn’t appropriate for them to share a bed. Not anymore, because Sherlock was right: he felt much better. His injuries were healed, and he still made his physiotherapy exercises. Yes, he still had nightmares. But John knew from own experience that Sherlock would have them no matter if they shared a bed or not. But he had to admit to himself that he felt sad to be cast out of Sherlock’s bedroom. He had slept surprisingly well next to his best friend. 

Sherlock took a bite from his toast. Honey dripped onto his fingers. „It’s a logical decision. And I have to manage things on my own again.“  
„You will. And if anything happens, you can always call me.“  
„That’s settled, then.“ Sherlock wandered back into the living room and left the open package of toast, the open honey jar, knife and plate on the kitchen counter. John packed everything away with a sigh.

Despite his seemingly emotionless words, Sherlock felt anything but well when he thought about sleeping alone again. Of course it was true, what he had told John. He had to get back to his own self. Now more than ever with the prospect of John working again. It was only for two weeks, but he would be away the whole day. Until then, Sherlock should better be able to function without being affected too much. And he should find something to occupy himself. He considered talking to Lestrade tomorrow. And to contact Molly. Surely she would have something for him to experiment with. There was nothing better than a bag of human remains against boredom. Sherlock doubted it would help against loneliness. But he would have to see. 

The first night alone. John lay in his bed knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep for a long time. All his senses were still too concentrated on sounds coming from Sherlock. John considered taking his pillow and duvet and go back downstairs to spend the night on the sofa. Just to be closer to Sherlock. But it had been Sherlock who had made the perfectly reasonable suggestion to sleep alone again. And what other choice had there been for John apart from agreeing? Yet, it still felt strange to sleep alone again in his own bed in his own room upstairs. Because John had liked sleeping next to Sherlock. And not only because he had been able to help him, should Sherlock need him. No, he had just simply slept well. It was a nice feeling to sleep next to someone. And just like he had told Sherlock: He had never felt disturbed by Sherlock. But of course he accepted Sherlocks wish and need for a little more privacy. Sighing, John turned to his side and closed his eyes. He hoped to fall asleep eventually. 

A terrible scream tore John from his sleep. He was wide awake immediately and out of bed before even opening his eyes properly. He ran downstairs on bare feet and bumped his left shoulder into the door frame from kitchen to corridor towards Sherlock’s bedroom. A hot pain shot from his shoulder down into his fingertips. He switched on the light in the corridor and massaged his shoulder, while he took a deep breath in front of Sherlock’s bedroom door. He didn’t want to simply barge into Sherlock’s room. 

„Sherlock?“  
John listened for sounds from behind the door. All he could hear was labored breathing, muted sounds which might be crying and most probably were.   
„Sherlock - may I come in?“  
No answer. John’s heart was racing. What should he do now? Simply enter? His concern for his best friend got the better of him.   
„I’m coming in, okay?“ When there was no answer, John opened the door and peered into the room.   
Sherlock was not in his bed. He was crouched into a ball, clutching his pillow close, his mouth pressed against a corner of the pillow. His face looked ashen in the dim light streaming in from the corridor, and his was wet with tears. 

„Oh god, Sherlock…“ John whispered and hurried towards him. He knelt in front of his friend. Sherlock stared at him, the panic in his eyes obvious.   
„I’m here. I’m here. Nobody’s going to hurt you. May I embrace you?“  
Sherlock didn’t react, but whimpered quietly. John’s heard ached at the sight. He slid closer and cautiously put his arms around Sherlock. Sherlock didn’t make an attempt to move, but let himself be embraced and then pressed his face against John’s throbbing shoulder. John let him. Sherlock’s whole body was trembling, while he desperately tried to stop crying. John automatically started to gently rock him. 

„Shh… it’s okay. I’m here. It was only a dream. Just a bad dream.“ John kept on murmuring soothing words while he waited for Sherlock to calm down. It took a little eternity, and finally the coldness from the wooden floorboards started to creep into John’s body. But finally Sherlock started to relax more and more. He pushed his face closer to John’s neck, searching his warmth and his familiar smell. Scenting. Again. John let him. If Sherlock needed it, then he should have hit. 

„Thank you,“ Sherlock finally whispered. John gently stroked Sherlock’s back.   
„Nothing to thank me for. Feeling a little better?“  
„Yes.“ Sherlock sniffed, then retreated from John’s arms. John looked at him, took his wrist and took his pulse.   
„Okay. Can you stand up?“  
Sherlock nodded. They stood up, and John helped Sherlock back to bed.   
„I don’t think I can sleep again,“ Sherlock admitted. He didn’t comment, when John switched off the light in the corridor and silently slid under the duvet next to him. He just accepted it and was grateful for it.   
„Then just rest. Nearly as good as sleeping.“ John’s hand under the duvet was warm and calming, when he gently stroked Sherlock’s upper arm. 

„Do you want to talk about your dream? You screamed…“ John said quietly. He heard Sherlock shakily inhale and exhale.  
„Sherlock?“  
„I can’t…“ Sherlock rolled into a ball, pulling his knees up as far as he could with his baby bump, but reached out for John. When he had found John’s hand, he closed his fingers around it and sighed.   
„Don’t you want to talk to someone? It doesn’t have to be me, if that’s to uncomfortable for you. You don’t have to come to terms with everything on your own. I know how difficult it can be to handle a PTSD.“  
„I don’t want to come to terms with anything. I want to forget. As soon as the children are born, I’m going to delete everything.“  
„It won’t be that easy. Your body has changed. Your body alone will always remind you of what has happened to you.“  
Sherlock swallowed hard. Of course he knew John was right. But he still denied this fact.   
„I can at least try.“  
„I worry about you,“ John admitted.   
„I wish I was a Beta. I wish I had the possibility to just get rid of this whole Omega-business“  
„You nearly did. Before. You’re going to manage again. But until then… I really want to help, but I am no trauma expert.“  
„You overcame your PTSD, too. If you can do that, I can, too.“  
„A PTSD is never really cured, you know. There is always the possibility of something triggering a new panic attack.“

Sherlock didn’t respond. He thought about the nightmare. It hadn’t been that bad in weeks. He had felt a little too secure, and the nightmare had hit him even more hard. He shuddered as he thought about the details of his dream. Rough hands on his body, the painful penetrations - over and over again. And he hadn’t been able to wake up. He had been able to before. But he hadn’t been able tonight. And the rapes had been going on and on. And they laughed… laughed at him… mocked him… spat at him, urinated on him, hit and kicked him… Sherlock started to breathe faster, felt his heart begin to race again. He remembered the pain, the fear, the insecurity, the loneliness. All there feelings were like a wave, threatening to overrun him again. He felt new sweat break out. John noticed it and immediately reacted. 

„Sherlock - calm down. I’m with you. I’m here.“ John gently squeezed Sherlock’s hand.   
„What do you need? Tell me. I just want to help you.“  
Sherlock was at a loss for words. He couldn’t express what he wanted, what would help him. That John was with him, was already more than he would have asked for. Although John must have felt rejected. After all, Sherlock had thrown him out of his bedroom. But John seemed to understand that Sherlock was still not his usual self. He slid closer.

„May I?“ John asked. Sherlock sniffed, and that was more than enough encouragement for John. He gently laid his arm over Sherlock. They were quite close now - just like the first morning they had woken together. Sherlock took a deep breath. Being so close to John was soothing.   
„Just rest. I’m here. We’ll get through this together,“ John murmered. Sherlock didn’t answer. He just lay there, looking at John in the darkness of his bedroom, saw John’s sad smile. Both stayed silent while they looked at each other. Although John didn’t want to, he eventually fell asleep. Sherlock fought sleep for hours, afraid of new nightmares. But finally he fell asleep, too, lulled to sleep through John’s regular breathing, his smell and his warm breath on his body. 

The next days were calm. In silent agreement John returned to Sherlock’s bedroom. They would try again in a few days. On Saturday Greg Lestrade called. Later on he showed up at Baker Street to ask Sherlock for advice on a case. Sherlock had different theories and spent some hours in his mind palace until he presented the solution. John could clearly see how much it meant to Sherlock to return to old habits. He hoped, Greg would stop by more often to distract Sherlock with some cases. 

On Monday John accompanied Sherlock to the hospital for his next appointment with Dr. Gawen. The twins were still developing very well, and Dr. Gawen scheduled the next exam in three weeks. Sherlock was more than happy about the longer break between exams. But just like before he had observed the ultrasound with rapt fascination and tried to bring the movements on the monitor in line with what he was feeling. And it was a fact that he was already so used to the kicks and movements inside his body, that he was waiting for them. The feeling of not having control over his own body had faded while he had gotten used to the movements of the babies. Meanwhile Sherlock felt a silent contentment which he would never be able to admit to John or any person. And he was glad he hadn’t ended the pregnancy. No matter how it had started: he had begun to silently enjoy this very special experience. It was something he would never have permitted himself. But now, when ever he was sitting or lying somewhere and the babies were moving inside him, he just tried to feel and enjoy. He tried to sort out which baby was moving, tried to recognize a pattern. And he started to see patterns. They were fraternal twins after all, each in his own amniotic sac. Easy to tell where these were located inside him. 

Sherlock learned more about them every day - most of all, how different they already were. One of the twins, the girl, was much more active than the boy. That’s what astounded Sherlock the most, because he would have thought it would be the other way round. But it was clear during every ultrasound: the girl was much more active. During the last exam Sherlock had turned his gaze from the monitor to John multiple times. John had observed the exam with the same fascination as Sherlock, a little smile on his lips. Sherlock had felt a little sting seeing this. John would be a good father. He would have been a good mother for own children. Fate had decided otherwise. Sherlock pushed thoughts like that away as fast as they occurred. He shouldn’t play out these „what if“ scenarios. He would give the children up for adoption. None of them should develop a relationship towards them…


	23. Chapter 23

It was still early and Sherlock still in the bathroom, when Mrs. Hudson knocked the next morning. John had just started the coffee.   
„John - good morning. Can you come with me for a moment?“ she asked seriously. John looked at his landlady and immediately knew something was wrong.  
„Morning. What’s the matter, Mrs. Hudson?“  
She gestured John out of the kitchen and onto the landing. Now John was truly alarmed.   
„There are reporters outside, John. Someone even called me and asked how Sherlock had survived the fall from this hospital roof. I just switched on the telly, and it’s already on the news. Nobody knocked or rang the doorbell, yet. But I don’t think it will stay like this for much longer.“  
„What?“ John was no longer alarmed but starting to get furious.   
„I’ll show you.“ Mrs. Hudson went on, and John followed her downstairs and into her flat. He carefully peeked out of the window and saw four of five journalists with cameras in front of 221B. The telly in a corner of Mrs. Hudson’s living room was turned on, showing the morning news. And in fact there was a news ticker at the bottom of the screen showing the latest news: „Sherlock Holmes not dead - Private detective faked his suicide - Investigations in the case James Moriarty/Richard Brook started again - Sherlock Holmes back in London“ After that some stock exchange quotations followed. 

John groaned. „Oh no… How do they know?“  
„Well, I didn’t tell anyone! I hope you know that!“ Mrs. Hudson sounded adequately indignant.   
„Of course, Mrs. Hudson. Damn… How do we get rid of this pack in front of the door?“  
„I can call the police, if you want. I feel stalked, after all. But they will just cross the street and stand on the other side of the pavement, and I don’t think, the police can do anything about that.“  
„You’re right, I’m afraid…“ John rubbed his forehead. He had no clue how to tell Sherlock. But he had to. If he didn’t and Sherlock stepped towards a window and discovered the flock of reporters unprepared… And worse: Someone could take his pictures.   
„Shall I inform the police? Maybe this inspector Lestrade can do something about it?“ Mrs. Hudson suggested.   
„No, that’s not Lestrade’s division… I’m going to talk to Sherlock. Don’t do anything until then.“  
„Alright.“

When John came back into the kitchen, Sherlock was already standing in front of the fridge.   
„Did you bring the papers?“  
„No…“  
„We’re nearly out of orange marmalade. Are you going to get some?“  
Sherlock turned around, holding the jar of marmalade and a plate with butter in his hands. He stopped dead, when he saw John’s face.   
„Sherlock…“ John started, but Sherlock pressed his lips together and nodded twice.   
„They found out,“ he stated.   
John sighed. „Yes. There are reporters in front of the house, and it’s on the news.“  
„Had to happen sooner or later.“ Sherlock placed marmalade and butter onto the table.   
„Mrs. Hudson asks, if she shall inform the police.“  
„Of what avail would that be?“ Sherlock took the milk from the fridge, too, than he sat down at the table.  
„It’s reasonable, if we feel stalked. Don’t you think so?“  
„I don’t think we will accomplish something. They will just move to another spot on the street. Coffee’s ready.“

John snorted. „Is that the only thing that’s important to you right now? That the damn coffee’s ready?“  
„Indeed. You could pour us some. I’m looking forward for this one cup of coffee I’m allowed each day. These reporters can’t take that away from me.“  
„How do you manage to stay so calm?“ John asked louder than he had intended to. But it was in fact hard for him to understand. With grim determination he went over to the coffee machine, poured them their coffee and fell onto his chair. Sherlock put zwo cubes of sugar into his mug and stirred it with the handle of his knife. There was no spoon on the table.   
„Does it change anything if I get upset? You alway say I should avoid too much excitement due to my condition. So I try not to get upset too much.“  
„Don’t you want to know what’s on the news?“  
Sherlock looked at John. „Let me guess. But that’s hardly rocket science: that I’m not dead, that the investigations concerning Moriarty will commence, that my suicide was faked and that I’m back home in London. Does that fit? Have they already found out I’m pregnant?“  
„I have no clue. They didn’t say anything about that on the telly.“ John put his elbows onto the table and rubbed his face.   
„They will find out eventually,“ Sherlock said, blew onto his coffee and took a sip.   
„What do you think how they found out?“  
„Does it matter?“  
„Yes, it matters to me. Because it means there could be someone close to us we cannot trust. What about your hairdresser? Could he have talked to someone?“

Sherlock looked at John disbelievingly. „Majid? No. No way.“  
„But they have to have their information from someone, don’t they?“  
„Not from Majid.“  
„How can you be so sure?“  
„I can trust him with my life. He would never do something like that.“  
„Why not? He’s a hairdresser. They are known for loving gossip.“  
„No, not Majid. We have… a common past. I know him from the streets. He once saved my life. And later I helped him off the streets. After I finally managed to stay clean and had my life back in order, I started to look out for him. I helped him quit the drugs and make peace with his family. His aunt Fatima finally agreed to let him work again in one of her salons. And now he’s the manager and does my hair since then. You have met him, John! Did you get the impression, he would send me to my doom with no hesitation?“

John sighed. „No. But who was it?“  
„What about one of Scotland Yard’s officers? Besides, the investigation about Moriarty has in fact resumed. You did accompany me to MI 6, when I gave my testimony. Which is long passed along to prosecution. Everyone at Scotland Yard will know by now, that I’m back. And officers and officials are corruptible, too. You know how that works.“  
„You mean… damn, that’s quite possible.“  
„Or maybe someone just saw me. A possibility, too. I have left the house, after all.“ Sherlock shrugged. He tried to appear unconcerned. But John could easily guess, that he felt much different on the inside.

„And what do we do know? This pack is still standing in front of our door.“  
„Let them. We won’t comment. But maybe you better accompany Mrs. Hudson for her shopping, until the the dust has settled. They won’t wait for more than some days.“  
„Don’t you care at all what these people write about you? They will just make something up.“  
„Again: Let them. They’ll do anyway. My reputation is already ruined thanks to James Moriarty. It can’t get much worse. It will take time, until this damage is fixed. At least until after the trial.“  
John sighed. „Fine. We’ll wait it out for a few days. But I want the front door locked. And when these people aren’t gone within three days, I will personally call that brother of yours and tell him to do something about them.“  
„What ever you like, John.“  
„How can you remain that calm and unaffected? I know you’re not.“

Now it was Sherlock who sighed. „Does it make anything easier or less painful if I freak out about it?“  
John thought about this for a moment, then snorted. „You’re probably right. As usual,“ he admitted.   
Sherlock shrugged. „Of course I am. You should be used to that by now.“  
John smiled, and Sherlock joined in. Deep inside he didn’t feel half as confident as he tried to make John believe. On the contrary. Instead he focused his attention to his coffee, while John got up to make some toast.

John had offered to do todays shopping for Mrs. Hudson and would buy some groceries and orange marmalade for Sherlock, just like he had requested. Before opening the door, he took a deep breath to prepare himself for what was about to happen. He put a hand onto the doorknob and silently counted to five, before he opened the door. The flock of reporters immediately started to move towards him. Cameras clicked, microphones and tape recorders were shoved towards him, and everybody started talking. 

„Dr. Watson! A statment, Dr. Watson?“  
„Sherlock Holmes is still alive! Where has he been the whole time?“  
„Dr. Watson, did you move back to Baker Street?“  
„How is Sherlock Holmes?“  
„So Richard Brook was in fact Moriarty? Can you tell us more, Dr. Watson?“  
„Dr. Watson, just one word, please!“  
John pushed his way through the reporters.  
„No comment,“ he growled and tried to push his way past one particularly pushy young man, who actually tried to grip his arm. John shook him off.   
„Dr. Watson, how’s Sherlock?“  
„Why did he fake his death?“  
„Is Moriarty really dead?“  
„Dr. Watson!“

John went away with confident strides, trying to ignore the reporters as best as he could. How he hated these people! Not one year ago the press had delightfully dissected Sherlock due to the dreadful Moriarty trial, Sherlock’s role and the story of Richard Brook. Speculations had dominated the tabloids for days. And the headlines everywhere:   
„Sherlock Holmes - suicide of self proclaimed master detective“  
„Sherlock Holmes - a fraud?“  
„Sherlock Holmes vs. James Moriarty“  
„Richard Brook’s true story, told by Kitty Riley“  
„Super sleuth dead - grief over the Reichenbach hero“  
„Sherlock Holmes - was it all a lie?“

John bit the inside of his cheek, when he remembered all the headlines which had practically burnt themselves into his memory. Each and every one had hurt, had reminded him of what he had lost. Each headline had fueled the grief over his friend’s fate. And now everything would start anew. John had no idea how Sherlock would cope with it this time. He wasn’t that detached like he tried to make John believe. That much was clear to John. And he was determined to do everything for his friend. Nobody would get away with calling Sherlock a fraud or a fake ever again. Not after everything he had endured. 

The reporters fell back now, taking back their place in front of 221 B. They would patiently wait for John to return. 

Upstairs in their living room Sherlock stood hidden behind the curtains and observed John making his way through the reporters and walking away - not too fast, and his stride and posture confident. When John left around a corner, Sherlock wrapped both his arms around his chest. Of course the reporters in front of their door bothered him. The possibility of them finding out what had happened to him, made him more than a little uneasy. And the pregnancy would raise even more questions and rumors once they found out. Word that he was still alive, would get around quickly after all. Therefore he hadn’t been that surprised. Of course he still felt uncomfortable about everything. And it brought some thoughts about a certain person who would realize by now that he was back to London. Sherlock fiddled with his mobile for a while. Finally he unlocked it and dialed a well known number.

„Molly Hooper?“  
Sherlock swallowed hard. He suddenly had a lump in his throat and he had no idea what to say.   
„Hello?“ Molly asked tentatively, her voice distorted through the mobile. Sherlock clutched his mobile tighter, his other hand balled into a fist.   
„Who’s there?“ And then quietly: „Sherlock - is that you?“  
„Molly…“ Sherlock finally choked out.   
„Sherlock! Oh god, it’s really you! I saw it on the news. Why didn’t you get in touch?“

Sherlock closed his eyes. He remembered the conversation from more than a year ago. When he had asked Molly for help. Because he had known he had to loose his game against Moriarty to protect his friends. And Molly had helped. Had found the corpse in the mortuary that had in fact resembled Sherlock a lot. The man Moriarty had used to abduct the children of ambassador Bruhl. No wonder little Claudette had started to scream when facing Sherlock: she had mistaken Sherlock for her abductor. After the nameless man had completed his task, Moriarty had had him killed. But he had still served a purpose in Sherlock’s plan. Molly had tampered with the papers and had made sure John had seen a corpse with a bashed in head on the wet pavement in front of St. Bart’s hospital. A corpse he had mistaken to be Sherlock. Until Sherlock had taken the opportunity to change place with the corpse on the pavement. 

During the following year Molly had often wondered how Sherlock was doing. But she had never known, that Mycroft had lost contact to his little brother. She had never known, that John had finally been informed by Mycroft and that both had been frantically searching for Sherlock. Just two hours ago, Molly had seen the news about Sherlock being still alive. She had considered visiting Baker Street but had decided not to. Sherlock may have needed her back then to act out his plan. But an unexpected visit wouldn’t make him very happy. And if he wanted to see her, he would get into contact. Just like he had done now.

„I… it’s complicated,“ Sherlock said at a loss for words.   
„Are you alright?“  
„Meanwhile, yes. I… I didn’t call, Molly, because… I needed to get better.“  
„No, it’s fine. I understand.“  
There was a moment of silence.   
„Do you need anything, Sherlock? Can I do something for you?“ Molly finally asked quietly.   
„You did so much for me. I just wanted to… just wanted to say I’m back in London. And that I’m going to work for Scotland Yard again. So we’ll see each other soon, I assume.“  
„I hope so. You sound tired. Are you really fine?“

Molly’s concern touched Sherlock like never before. God knows, he had been unfair to her on different occasions, had often used her for his own good. Nevertheless she had always stuck by him. Even after this terrible new year’s party when he had embarrassed her in front of everybody. Sherlock swallowed against the lump still lodged in his throat.   
„Not really fine, but… I don’t want to tell you on the phone.“  
„What happened? Where have you been the whole time?“  
„Undercover in the beginning. Until… my cover was blown.“  
„Oh god,“ Molly breathed, „Oh god, Sherlock… I don’t know what to say.“  
„Then just don’t say anything. I just called to say that I’m mostly fine. And that I’ll see you soon. And to… say thank you. For your help. Back then.“  
„I wanted to. You know that.“

Both remained silent for a while, didn’t know what to say. Until Sherlock took a deep breath. „Well, I shouldn’t keep you away from work. See you soon, Molly.“  
„Yes. And if you need anything…“ Molly didn’t have to complete her sentence. Sherlock had to smile.   
„Then I know I can count on you. Thank you.“ He ended the call, breathing deep. Molly Hooper’s loyalty was truly astounding. Most of all for Sherlock himself. Slipping his phone back into the pocket of his dressing gown, he turned back towards the window to peer through the curtains again. He hoped all the fuss about his return would wear off soon. The tabloids normally lost interest pretty fast and would hopefully search for other stories to make them an awful lot of money. He hoped that would happen in this case, too.

The next morning Mrs. Hudson brought them a newspaper from Speedy’s. The headline on the front page screamed at them, that Sherlock Holmes was still alive and back in London. Then the writer indulged in vague speculations. An anonymous source was cited and all proceedings from a year ago were told again in all their excruciating detail. John was angry. Sherlock wasn’t treated nicely in this article. The author apparently had very little information, and so the article was very derogatory. Sherlock himself seemed disinterested. Since Sherlock had gained a certain famousness, the tabloids had always delighted in Sherlock. He had always ignored it when ever he could. It wasn’t that easy for John. Even back then after all the drama about Moriarty and his alter ego Richard Brook had begun, John had feared the influence of the press. And he had been right. Just like Sherlock did, John hoped the press would loose interest, when they refused to give statements.


End file.
